A Love Through Time
by Kalia Clyde
Summary: Hermione's diary is switched & Tom Riddle appears. Trouble ensues as they duel & damage the diary, opening a glitch in time, putting them 200 years in the past in 1797. How will they cope when they are suspected to be missing people from 1797?
1. Riddle's Diary

**A/N: **Welcome to my second Tom/Hermione fic. I would like to start off by saying thank you to all who voted on the poll on my website. Here is your winner, of course. I hope that you enjoy this one just as much as you did the last, _Riddle's Phantom_. So, without further ado... the story.  
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* * *

**_**A Love Through Time**_

**Chapter 1 – Riddle's Diary**

"My Lord, you called for me?" Lucius Malfoy addressed urgently as he swept into the dimly lit room where a snake lay on a tattered oval rug near the hearth, and the most evil wizard since Grindlewald sat in a dusty, old, high-backed arm chair.

"Yes, Lucius, I did send for you," drawled Lord Voldemort, his bright red eyes staring into the crackling fire. "Wormtail, take Nagini and milk her for me while I inform Lucius of our plans."

"Y-Yes, m-m-my Lord," Wormtail stuttered.

Wormtail was a stout, balding, little man with a constant sweat on his dirty forehead. He was always twisting and writhing his hands as he clicked his tongue against his big buck teeth, much like a rat would as it made faint attempts to taste the air. He feared his master whom ruled him with merciless means as he did all his Death Eaters.

Wormtail shivered as the snake uncurled itself from the rug and began to slither its way toward him, cutting a deep path across the dusty wooden floors. He followed the snake from the room, jumping as it stopped and hissed at him, bringing a smile to Voldemort's face. The short man hated this duty and detested what might happen if he didn't do as he was told.

"Now, Lucius... please take a seat," Voldemort said as he gestured to a wooden dining chair sitting against the wall near the fireplace.

Malfoy wrinkled his nose, but shook it off as he pulled his wand from his cane and summoned the chair to him. Normally, the pristine pureblood would be sitting in a regal forest green armchair or on a black leather couch, not on some rickety old chair such as the one he had just seated himself on.

"Since you are now seated, I will enlighten you on how you... _and_ your son are going to help me," the Dark Lord stated with a widening of his vivid red eyes.

"We are at your service. How may we help?"

"The diary that was supposedly ruined in your son's second year at Hogwarts-"

"Yes?"

"It can be restored and reused," Voldemort said lightly.

"But, my Lord, the last time we used this it failed, and I was found to be the one that was guilty of endangering those students at Hogwarts," Lucius objected.

"Do you mean to tell me that you doubt my plans?" Voldemort's voice was high and fierce and sent a shiver up the Malfoy's spine, but he wasn't about to let his master see it. That would suggest weakness, and he had already expressed doubts in the Dark Lord's scheme, so he couldn't show more reason to distrust him.

"No, no, my Lord. I trust you immensely, and I don't mean to under mind you," Lucius apologized. "Please continue."

"Your son is in his seventh year at the school, is he not?"

"Yes," the blond answered shortly.

"He is Head Boy, is he not?"

"Yes, that he is," Malfoy replied with growing pride. His son was upholding the family honor well.

"And does he not have access to Dumbledore's office?"

"He certainly does," Lucius said with growing curiosity. "But what does all this have to do with your journal?"

"Lots, Lucius. Lots." Voldemort paused for a moment, a sickening smile slinking onto his face and causing his thin, pale lips to curl at the corners. "As you may or may not know, the diary is kept within the safety of that old _fool_, Dumbledore's office... and I plan to retrieve it. Or rather that I'm going to have someone retrieve it for me."

"How do you plan to get it without Dumbledore knowing that it's been stolen? He's got eyes all around that office of his. That annoying phoenix and those awful pictures that talk to him. How anyone can be loyal to such an old hindrance," Lucius hissed with hate laced in his voice. For every time Malfoy had come near Dumbledore, he would make a fool of Lucius and ruin whatever it was he was working on.

"You see," Voldemort droned. "This is where your son, Draco, comes in. He is going to be the one to retrieve the diary for me, then pass it off to you. Once it is within your hands, you will bring it to me so I may correct what's been done to it."

"How do you plan to get him in without being seen or told on, my Lord? It would be quite impossible for him to just walk in and take the book."

"Wormtail!" the Dark Lord's voice rang throughout the house, echoing in every bare corner of the place. Peter soon came running into the room, Nagini slithering leisurely behind him.

"How may I h-help you, m-my L-Lord?"

"Go and fetch our gift to Draco," Voldemort instructed as Pettigrew nodded and then ran from the room.

* * *

"Hey, Malfoy, isn't that your owl?"

Draco looked up from his breakfast to see his dark gray eagle owl come flying in with the other owls for the morning post, though his pet stood out from the rest as it carried a rather bulky package. It landed on Draco's outstretched arm and dropped the package on the table with a dull thump and then stole a piece of toast before taking flight again. Staring at the neatly wrapped box in front of him, Malfoy picked it up and flipped it over to find a dark green envelope tied in the string that bound the brown paper to the box. In neat, curling letters that were written in shining silver ink was his name with a short note: '_Don't open this package unless you are in the privacy of your own dormitory!_'

Draco looked around, no one was watching, even Crabbe and Goyle had gone back to stuffing their faces with pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and oatmeal. He shook his head in a disgusted way as he watched food dribble down the front of Crabbe's clothes. Standing, he gathered the package and left his seat.

"'ey Malboy... where arb you goib?"

Draco turned around and looked at Crabbe in a distaste as he spit food on Goyle in his rush to ask Malfoy where he was headed to.

"None of your business. Just go back to pigging out," Draco hissed as he turned and continued on his way out of the Great Hall, stopping only a second at the door to glare at Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they came in. "Mudblood," he mumbled as Hermione passed.

"Ferret," she murmured back in an angered way as she threw her nose in the air and continued to follow Harry and Ron over to Gryffindor table.

Malfoy continued down into the dungeons with their damp air and the moist walls, where the only company you had while walking alone was the echoing of your footsteps. He rounded the corner after walking down a long stone corridor lit by torches in iron brackets on the walls and came to the portrait of a snake charmer.

"Password," said the charmer in a hissing manner, his speech snake-like.

"Magie Noire," Draco answered with a bit of a French accent.

He was the one who had came up with that password. He had gotten it when he went to Toulouse, France over the summer with his parents. It meant 'Black Magic', which is what Draco loved to do best in his free time. He enjoyed challenging his friends to shows of dark arts and bits of evil magic. He had grown to be quite the show-off.

The snake in the basket of the portrait hissed as it lunged forward, trying to attack the Head Boy, but was unable to get past its barrier of paint in the frame while portrait itself swung forward and let him into the Slytherin common room. It was empty and silent, all but the crackling fire which cast an orange glow over the dark room. Everything in the dungeons was dark. Even at noon on the brightest day of the year.

Malfoy made his way past the expensive-looking leather furniture and highly-polished wooden tables to the staircase and up to the dorm that he shared with the other seventh year boys. He sat down on his bed and stared at the package a moment before looking around the room.

He was alone, but there was still a need to ensure privacy. He got up and went to the door, locking it from all visitors and before he pulled the emerald hangings and crawled to the center of the bed.

"Now, what could be in this package?" he pondered aloud to the thin, cool air around him.

Looking down at the brown paper, he studied it for a moment before he turned to the letter. Picking it up, he opened it and leisurely pulled it out of the envelope while still surveying the package. Draco unfolded the letter and began to read.

_In this package you will find a very valuable item which you are to use to do an important job. Your job is to enter Dumbledore's office and retrieve the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Send it to me, so I may return it to the rightful owner._

Malfoy tossed the letter aside. There was no mistaking who it was from once he read it. His father could be the only one who would send it to him. And the rightful owner of that diary was the Dark Lord, Draco knew that. He smirked and grabbed the package quickly, but then slowed his actions. He had to be careful even if he was excited.

He had been so tired of being like the other Death Eaters' children, useless and only bragging about their parents' importance. Now he had his chance to prove himself. He had a job for Voldemort. He would become more important than even those other children's parents after accomplishing this. And Draco knew that that was what he had to do. He couldn't disappoint his father, and his family could bring no more anger to the Dark Lord who had already spared Lucius after the break on Azkaban.

Malfoy's excitement finally got the better of him as he sat untying the knot in the string, and he began to rip open the package, tossing aside the lid to the box and pulling out a black cloak of satin. How in the world would this help him?

"What kind of trickery is this?" Draco threw the cloak down, pushed roughly past the bed hanging, and walked across the room to his wardrobe. "I've got at least eighty of these wretched things."

Turning and looking at the cloak that was laying on the bed, he noticed something. The cloak wasn't there and neither was the box. But where had they gone?

He crossed the room and ran his hands over the bed, hitting something. He grabbed what he thought was his bed covers and pulled, only to find that he now had the cloak in his hand, and the box was once again lying on the bed.

"So that's what it is... An Invisibility cloak." He grinned deviously. "Looks like Potter isn't the only student at Hogwarts with one now."

Draco's lips were still curled at one corner in an arrogant, evil smirk as he heard a bell ring in the distance, signaling the start of classes. He stuffed the cloak into his bag and ran for his first class, NEWT level Potions.

* * *

"Albus! Albus!" Minerva McGonagall was running down the marble staircase toward the Great Hall with a letter in her hands as Dumbledore stood talking to Snape. The Potions master was complaining about how he needed four new cauldrons for the accident that Neville had had in NEWT level Potions earlier that day.

"Ah, Minerva, what seems to be troubling you?" the Headmaster inquired politely as she came bustling across the entrance hall.

"I've... I've got a letter here... from the school board of governors. They said they got a complaint from one of the student's parents about an injury sustained in Hagrid's class. They want to come and check things out," McGonagall explained.

"When does it say we can expect them?" Albus questioned calmly.

"Tonight at seven," Minerva replied. "There will be four governors attending an-"

"I see. Severus, Minerva, if the two of you will excuse me, I've got to go see Hagrid about his visitors for tonight. May I have that letter please?"

"Certainly, sir," McGonagall said a little more tranquilly as she handed over the letter to the Headmaster and watched along with Snape as he strode sedatedly out the front door and down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut.

Draco Malfoy had been standing around the corner listening to the three professors talking. He had been enjoying the insults that Snape had been throwing out about Neville when he became even more elated about the news of the engagement with the governors. This meant that the office would be empty. The plan to steal back the journal of Tom Riddle was firmly in place. All Draco had to do was wait until seven o'clock that night to sneak into Dumbledore's office while everyone else was at dinner or at Hagrid's hut.

* * *

"Draco, aren't you coming to dinner with us?"

"No, Parkinson... I've got work to do," Draco replied stiffly as he shrugged Pansy off his arm and went to his dorm, leaving her looking scandalized. He waited until everyone left the common room before coming out of the seventh year boys' dorm.

It was now 7:13, and he was moving swiftly up the hall, but no one would know this as he went undetected under his cloak. He made his way to the second floor to the stone statue of an ugly gargoyle.

"Ice Mice," Draco said in a little more than a whisper.

The gargoyle jumped aside as a spiraling staircase began to move upward from the floor. He stepped quickly onto them, allowing them to carry him to the door of Dumbledore's office. At first he wondered if he would be able to get in, but then he remembered to change the purposes he had in mind. The office had never let Umbridge in because she had had disrespectful intentions.

"I need to speak to Dumbledore or leave a letter on his desk," Malfoy said to himself.

The door opened, much to Draco's relief, and he sneaked in. He paused a moment and looked around the room to the many whirling, spinning, and whistling silver objects, but he quit examining them as they made him dizzy. His eyes then traveled to the Sorting Hat which seemed to be napping. He continued to look around the room, many of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses were either gone from their frames or napping against them. And then he saw Fawkes who was sitting contentedly on his perch next to Dumbledore's desk.

"Ruddy bird," Draco whispered to himself as he continued to scan the Headmaster's office.

Then he spied it. The diary of Tom Riddle. Malfoy moved stealthily towards it, lifting it carefully off the shelf, he was about to leave when he heard an almost sing-song sort of squawk.

"I say, what's going on here?" One of the portraits had awoken as Fawkes began to flap his wings wildly. "What in Merlin's beard! I say! That bird's gone barmy!"

Fawkes began to call louder as Draco began to run. He panicked when he heard the beating of wings, and as he looked over his shoulder, he saw that the fiery phoenix had risen from his perch in pursuit of him.

"Go away you great ugly pest," Draco grunted as Dumbledore's pet took hold of the bloody diary with its feet and began to pull. The Head Boy put up quite the fight, but finally let go. Fawkes was on his way back to the perch when Malfoy pulled out his wand. "No you don't! This is my moment of glory and some stupid bird isn't going to ruin it! _Avada Kedavra!_"

Green light burst into the air and whizzed towards the sizable bird, hitting it square in the back. There was a bursting noise and then a crackling of flame as ashes floated to the floor along with the diary.

"Quick! Someone get help! Treachery! Treason in the Headmaster's office! Thief! Someone come quick!" The man in the portrait ran from his frame, and Draco knew if he didn't get out of there soon, he would be in trouble.

He put his wand away and ran to the pile of ash on the floor where a tiny balding bird was looking around slowly with large, shining black eyes. Draco picked up the diary as the newborn Fawkes gave a tiny squeaking shout causing Malfoy to laugh.

"Let that be a lesson to you that I always win," he said evilly before rushing from the Dumbledore's office and back to his own dormitory to write his father and send the diary.

At that exact time though, Snape was running across the front lawns of Hogwarts to get Albus. He had been informed by the portrait of a previous Hogwarts Headmaster, Everard, that someone had committed 'treason and thievery' in Dumbledore's office. Severus hated to bust in while the governors were there, but this was serious. They had stolen Tom Riddle's diary.

"Headmaster!"

"Yes, Severus?" Dumbledore rose as Snape stood panting in the doorway of Hagrid's hut after letting himself in.

"Someone has broken into your office!"

"What?" Minerva exlaimed, rising from her seat while the governors sat there looking shocked along with Hagrid.

"Come quickly," Severus ordered as the Headmaster turned to the governors.

"If you'll excuse me-"

"Certainly," answered two of the governors in unison as Albus, Snape, and McGonagall left the hut and ran for the second floor office.

When they got there, Everard was staring on with all the other Headmasters and Headmistresses, all of whom looked grave.

"What person would do such a thing, Albus?" Minerva questioned in distress.

Dumbledore sighed and turned from McGonagall to the pile of ash on the floor.

"I don't know, Minerva... I don't know."

He moved his bird to the perch and walked tiredly to the window to scan the night sky in thought. As he looked out, something caught his eye. A lone owl flying away from the school with a rather large package.

* * *

"Wormtail!"

Peter Pettigrew came running as his master bellowed his name, fear stricken over his face. He bowed and awaited his orders dutifully.

"Send for Nott and Dolohov... I'm going to need those potions brewed immediately."

"Y-Yes, Master," Wormtail answered with a quiver as he turned tail and ran from the room for the kitchen of the Riddle manor where many of the Death Eaters were gathered.

"Lucius, you must commend your son on a job well done."

"Yes, sir," Lucius said with a curt nod of his head. He was proud of Draco. The boy had saved both his father and their family a great deal of misfortune by succeeding.

"But the job is only half done," Voldemort sighed contentedly while turning through the destroyed pages of the diary in his lap.

"Sir?" Malfoy questioned. He had thought that they were in the clear. What was this new addition to the agreement?

"As soon as the diary is restored, I need your son to do a bit of placing," informed the Dark Lord.

"Placing where?"

"In a certain Muggle-born's possession. _She_ is the key to unleashing my wrath upon the wizarding world... _She_ who holds books so dearly and depends on them so much. _She_ who is so close to _Potter_!"

"The Mudblood Granger, sir?"

"Precisely, Lucius... precisely," Voldemort chuckled menacingly as an eerie smirk slithered onto his face. His plan was well under way and without so much as a hitch so far. All that was left to do was restore the diary, place it in Hermione's possession in place of her own, and wait.


	2. The Placing of the Diary

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed: _nehimasgift, Silver Tears 11, keeper of the heart, Vera-Sabe, xXCrackRomanticXx, svelte, Emi-Bum, tofuubeaver, san01, PapayaCrazy _(thanks for help with the website thing, girl!)_, LaNi-GoLDfiSH, Lizzy Evans, moonlights desire, _and _pottersgirl._ There'll be an update every three days, in case you're wondering. I'll try to stay on track with that, but things are a little hectic in the computer world for me right now... website moving. If you've linked my website, let me know and I'll get you the new url a.s.a.p.! Thanks again everyone!  
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Chapter 2 – The Placing of the Diary**

"Harry, you've got to tell someone," Hermione instructed sternly. "It just won't do to not tell."

"Hermione, it's only a guess that Lucius put Draco up to taking the diary for Voldemort," Harry sighed.

"But your dreams usually prove to be true... Remember that one about Mr. Weasley?" Hermione reminded pointedly.

"Yes, but as I told you: parts of it kept fading in and out and all I heard was Voldemort yelling at Wormtail that he needed some potions. After that, Wormtail left, then it faded to blackness, and then Voldemort was telling Lucius he needed to commend someone. I didn't catch who for fading. All I remember before waking was Voldemort saying 'Precisely, Lucius... precisely' before laughing that horrible laugh that made my scar twinge," Harry recounted with a rub at his scar. Obviously the remanent of the Killing Curse gone was still pained him a bit.

"Please... just go tell Dumbledore or _something_," Hermione begged.

"After breakfast, how about that?"

"Fine," she relented with a sigh. She would settle for anything as long as Harry told someone from the Order who could help him.

"Can we go to breakfast now?" Ron had been dozing idly on the couch as Hermione and Harry whispered to each other, he had now awoken as there was an absence of their buzzing and hushed voices.

"I suppose," Hermione sighed as she stood up, watching Ron stand and stretch as he yawned.

She yawned as well which in turn caused Harry to do the same. None of them had gotten much sleep since Seamus and Neville had come running in telling them that someone had broken into Dumbledore's office.

Hermione felt it her duty to do a little extra patrolling after that, she was, after all, Head Girl. She had been out late that night, until two in the morning to be exact, and when she had returned, Harry and Ron were still up pondering over who the thief could be.

Harry's dream had only been deciphered by Ron by a clumsy, joking yawn of suggestion.

"_... and that's what happened," Harry explained as he stared blankly into the fire._

"_This is serious... Who could they have been talking about?"_

"_May-maybe Lucius p-put Draco up to it," Ron yawned with a sigh of laughter._

_Harry had been so set lately that Draco was a Death Eater that Ron had begun to joke about it in hopes of lightening things up and showing Harry how ridiculous the idea was. He wasn't totally awake though, so the full effect hadn't hit him yet about what his joke could mean._

"_Ron...," Hermione drawled slowly as she thought about this._

_She knew she was jumping to conclusions, and maybe even letting Harry's constant rave about Malfoy get to her, yet it did make sense._

"_You could be right! Who else would Lucius have contact with that would be smart enough to break into Dumbledore's office? And when I say smart, I mean, who else has the password but the Head Boy himself?"_

_Harry and Ron looked at her in puzzlement, and then Harry nodded._

"_That's what I've been telling you!" he protested._

"_Oh, Hermione," Ron grumbled. "Now look what you've started. He'll never shut up, and we'll never get to bed. You're all acting stupid. We just need some sleep."_

"_Ron's right... a little sleep might help the matter," Hermione sighed as she stood up and left the boys at the stairs to the dorms._

"Watch where you're going, Mudblood," snarled the hateful voice of Draco Malfoy as Hermione was jarred from her reverie of the Golden Trio's conversation when she ran into him while following Harry and Ron into the Great Hall.

"Watch your mouth, Malfoy, or I'll curse you into next week!" Ron threatened.

"Whatever, Weasel," Draco hissed before passing by the Golden Trio to go into the Great Hall and to the Slytherin table.

"What a git," Harry said slowly as the three Gryffindors shrugged off Malfoy with a few malicious glances before continuing on their way.

"I think git is an understatement," Ron snarled.

"Yeah, rea-"

"May I have your attention please," McGonagall called as she and Dumbledore rose from their seats at the staff table, interrupting Harry and Ron's talk. The Deputy Headmistress then turned to Albus who looked unusually grave with the usual twinkle of his eye and warm, welcoming smile both missing from his face.

Hermione frowned as she leaned forward to look at the distraught Headmaster. The silence in the hall was ominous, and it sent shivers up her spine while Dumbledore sighed.

"It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that there was a break in to my office, and a very powerful object was stolen. I ask everyone to remain calm as we try to find the culprit... I only hope that we can prove it to be a person who has miraculously figured out a way to slip into the castle, and not one of our own many here at Hogwarts," Albus said in a voice that didn't fit him, not even for his age. This sounded even older than the wizened Headmaster himself, who was no less than one-hundred and fifty years in age.

"This is awful," Hermione sighed, her heart panging with sympathy for the Headmaster as he sat down and looked out upon his students with a saddened, but watchful eye.

She knew that he wanted nothing more than to be able to deny that it was one among them in the hall, but they both knew that that was wrong. It had to have been because it was practically impossible to get into Hogwarts without help. The grounds had spells on them for no Apparation, the gates were locked and unable to be unlocked unless you have the password, and not many have the password to Dumbledore's office besides a select few. So that meant that a student or teacher had to have assisted the thief if they didn't take the object themselves.

The few who could have done this were the staff, Head Boy, and Head Girl. That limited it down to about fourteen people, and it could be further limited. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Hagrid had been out in Hagrid's hut, so that put it at eleven. Snape was patrolling and had been the one to warn Dumbledore. Taking it down to ten.

Sinistra, Flitwick, Sprout, Hooch, and Vector had all been at dinner that night. Five people were left. Madam Pomfrey was in her hospital wing taking care of Neville from an accident he had caused earlier in the day. Four remained as culprits. Hermione herself had been at dinner with Harry and Ron and numerous other students. Three were left.

Trelawney never came out of her tower, so that was pretty much left her out of suspicion and had only two people under the suspect category. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor wasn't even there that night as he had been in Diagon Alley getting a special shipment from a shop for the third years' next lesson. This meant that only one person was left, and that was Draco Malfoy.

Hermione glared across the hall at him. He was looking smug, like always, and he seemed to be holding his head a bit higher as he looked down upon even those at Slytherin table.

"He _disgusts_ me to no end," Hermione grumbled, causing Harry and Ron to look at her in puzzlement.

"What _are_ you on about?"

"Malfoy," Hermione said through gritted teeth as Ron stared at her with disbelief. It was usually him that was the one to do something like this, but to see this sort of hatred from Hermione, who was usually above such things, was insanely bewildering.

"What about him?"

"He's done it, Harry, he's the culprit. He's the only one," Hermione murmured. "Listen, I can prove it..." Hermione went on to explain her deduction of where everyone else had been, and when she had finished, Harry and Ron whole-hearted agreed. "I'm going to Dumbledore about it," she finished.

Hermione turned to look at Malfoy, pure detest of him in her glare. He returned it with a smirk before getting up and leaving the hall.

* * *

"It's done, sir," Lucius said with a low bow, his long blond ponytail sweeping the floor as he bowed and presented a book to Voldemort. 

A smile so sadistic that it was hardly human crossed Voldemort's face when he took the book from Malfoy. Then again, Voldemort himself was hardly human. He had been so void of emotions and feelings of any sort but anger, rage, and obsession of power that it reduced him. He had escaped death, underwent many alterations, and was now greater than many in his use of magic. He was definitely not a normal being under any circumstances.

"It's been fully restored?"

"Dolohov, Nott, and myself worked on it from dusk to dawn, my Lord, and it's been restored, yes. The poison of the Basilisk was drawn out, the pages and cover repaired, the disguise put upon it, and now all it needs is-"

"My own addition," Voldemort finished for Lucius. "Wormtail!"

Lucius winced as his ears rang from his master's bellowing, but he was once again smirking as Pettigrew came running into the room. He stumbled upon the cane Malfoy was holding out in Peter's path causing him to trip and slide across the floor. Lucius withdrew his cane and sniffed arrogantly as though he had nothing to do with it.

"Y-Yes your L-Lordship?" Wormtail stood up and brushed himself off as Malfoy gave a soft, pleased chuckle. He always found pleasure in making a fool of Pettigrew, or any other for that matter, in front of the Dark Lord.

"Have you finished feeding and milking Nagini?"

"Yes, last night I f-finished," Wormtail stuttered in response.

"I will need what you've milked from her, Wormtail, for once I finish," Voldemort informed slowly. "Now see to it that it is surely ready. Lucius, I need you to go to the Death Eaters and conduct the meeting whilst I finish up here. They need to know of my plan and how it is going. Tell them of the consequences and how things must be to adapt to the change."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy said before nodding and leaving the room as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named laid the book on a single, heavy wooden table he had had brought up to the room earlier.

He stood slowly, surveying the new cover of the book. It was now brown leather instead of black. The golden letters that had spelled out the name 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' had been removed from the back, and another placed on the front cover.

Voldemort grinned maliciously as he undid the latch on the cover and opened it to a random page while drawing out his wand. Now he would perform the most vital part of the plan. The part that would make the scheme work. One that would guarantee his success.

He pointed his wand at the book and closed his eyes. There was a slight breeze blowing through the room now, though there were no windows open. Any other who might have been in the room would have been chilled to the bone, even the Death Eaters in the kitchen downstairs felt a chill creep in. When the Dark Lord opened his eyes, they were an even more intensely crimson than before, and it was heart-stopping in a scary way as they seemed to be glowing.

His breath came in a rattling way much like how the Dementors drew their breaths, and the wind storm inside within the walls picked up, dust swirling in the corners of the room as he raised his wand to his chest. He pointed the wand there for a moment, just above where his heart would have been, and closed his eyes again as he gave an expression of deep concentration. The wand tip glowed against his black, billowing robes, and when he pulled the wand away, there was a long black wisp of smoke following the tip as he led it to the book.

The smoky tuft was sucked into the book as though there was an invisible magnet at the center it. Voldemort took a moment to examine his work as the book laid upon the table, casting a bright white light before fading slowly back to its normal state. He smiled weakly in triumph before continuing on by chanting a charm on the book.

This process continued for some time when finally the book exploded with light from the amount of power rushing through it. The Dark Lord was blinded momentarily as he raised his arm to shield his eyes. The book shook about the desk like there was an earthquake forcing it to do so. When the light dulled some, he lowered his arm and pointed his wand at the book to finish the evil incantation upon it.

He had only just pointed his wand at the book when a bright flash of swirling green light spiraled from his wand. The book lit up, the light it was producing mixing with the vivid green light from Voldemort's wand to produce a dull jade glow upon the pages.

He smiled sinisterly and went to pick it up, but that was a mistake as a loud whistling issued in the air, exploding into a thunderous boom. A gust of wind was sent whizzing through the room, knocking Voldemort over onto the floor in an unconscious state.

"What in the name of Dark Magic was that?"

Lucius and the other Death Eaters rushed from the kitchen, Wormtail in tow with his master's nourishment. When they entered Voldemort's room, they saw that he was spread upon the floor, and a light was fading back into a book as miniature dust storms settled on the floor.

Once the light was gone from the room, it was almost impossible to see because the fire had been reduced to crimson embers which were dying fast.

"Relight the fire," Lucius ordered Nott as he and Dolohov went to Voldemort's side. "Bring his chair," he ordered to Goyle while taking his wand and whispering a charm to revive the Dark Lord.

Voldemort gasped breathlessly in a shaky, rapid manner as Antonin and Malfoy helped him up into his armchair, Wormtail quick to bring his master a glass of the snake's venom elixir he had prepared.

"Where is the book?"

"On the table, your Lordship," Nott replied as he walked over to the desk and held up the book.

"Give it to me," the Dark Lord rasped. Nott handed the book to Malfoy who brought it to their master while a roomful of Death Eaters looked on. "It's... finished!"

Everyone exchanged dark looks as Voldemort began to chuckle softly, raising the pewter glass with its snake of emerald wrapped around it. He drank gratefully and clutched the book to his chest as Lucius stood up from a crouched position and looked to Dolohov and Nott with a grin while Wormtail cowered in a far corner.

"Shall I send it to Draco?"

"Certainly, Lucius. The sooner the better... That imbecile, Dumbledore, won't know what hit him. While he's still trying to figure out who stole it, I'm going to be taking over Hogwarts and after that... the _rest _of the wizarding world!"

Malfoy accepted the diary from Voldemort who rose shakily from his chair as all the Death Eaters bowed in respect.

* * *

Draco was sitting in the library studying when his eagle owl scratched at the window. He checked to see if Madam Pince was paying attention and saw her cataloging books while cursing under her breath. Certain he was safe, Malfoy crossed over to the window and opened it enough for the bird to sit the package on the windowsill before taking flight. He grabbed the parcel in a hurried way and went back to the table, unwrapping it and looking at the brown leather cover with the name Hermione J. Granger written upon the front. 

"She won't know what hit her," he laughed as he stood up while gathering his belongings. He now needed to go and find out the password to Gryffindor tower.

Going straight to his dorm, he grabbed the cloak and tucked the diary safely into the inside pocket. Draco went undetected through the common room, through the corridors, clear to the seventh floor where he sat in waiting by a suit of armor.

He didn't have to wait long when a Gryffindor came walking down the hall, that Gryffindor being Neville Longbottom. Malfoy sneaked along behind him until he stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password?"

"Um... Mim- no, that was last month's. I know it's in a different language, can't you just let me in? Please?" Neville pleaded.

"I'm sorry, no password, no entrance," the Fat Lady denied.

"Of all the Gryffindors, I follow the stupid one," Draco hissed to himself. Neville whipped around at the sound of the whisper, but didn't see anyone, so he went back to thinking.

They spent another ten minutes there as Neville tried password after password with no success. Finally a savior came as Ron and Harry happened along.

"Hey Neville," Harry called.

"All right there, Neville?"

"Do either of you remember the password?" Neville frowned and blushed at his own failure to remember, but he seemed to not be alone on the subject.

"Don't ask me. That's why I always make sure I'm with Hermione or someone who does know it," Ron shrugged. "I hate the password she made up. It's too hard to say. Why couldn't she have just left it at English? Why make it another language?"

"I know it," said someone from behind them. The three boys turned around to see a very amused Hermione. "It's really simple." She stepped forward and smiled at the Fat Lady.

"Password?"

"Indorgriffay."

"Now what's that mean?" Ron followed Hermione through the portrait hole, Harry right behind him, and then Neville was going to go, but he got knocked back as Draco rushed forward.

"Hey guys!" Neville had tried to run forward and get through the portrait hole, but it swung shut before he could get there. "Hermione!" he yelled from outside.

"Oh, Neville," Hermione giggled as she pushed the portrait open to let him into Gryffindor common room.

Malfoy watched to see which staircase was the girls', and he soon found out as Neville retired for the night, heading up the boys' staircase. Immediately, Draco ran for the opposite, but something unexpected happened. The steps groaned and then disappeared to nothing more than a stone slide that he went tumbling down. He got up quickly as everyone looked around at the sound of moving stone and yelling voices, but when they didn't see anyone, they shrugged it off.

"That was odd," Hermione remarked as she went back to doing her homework.

Malfoy was cursing the stairs as he watched Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He sat for a moment, trying to figure out how to place the diary.

"Stupid school and their dumb jinxes... I'll just have to tell father that they're a hazard to unsuspecting students, and he'll have it changed," Draco whispered to himself in the far corner of the common room.

As he continued to watch the Golden Trio, he noticed something. Hermione's bag was laying on a chair under the table that they were working at. He dropped down to his hands and knees, crawling forward slowly, careful not to let the Invisibility Cloak slip off as he placed the diary on top of the bag. He crawled back to the corner to make sure she took it.

"Well, I'm finished so I'm going to go get some shut eye," Hermione sighed before letting out a dainty yawn. She got up and walked around the table to pick up her things as Draco continued to watch. Suddenly everyone in the common room jumped as she shrieked angrily. "RON!"

"What!" the red head partically squealed in surprise.

"What are you doing with my diary?" Hermione picked the brown leather book up off the top of Ron's bag and brandished it in his face as he sat there mouth agape and wide-eyed.

"But... I didn't-"

"Oh! You expect me to believe that, Ronald Weasley? Just because I wouldn't tell you if I was still talking to Viktor, you had to stoop so low as to go get my diary and try and read it," Hermione accused.

"No, Hermione-," Ron's pleadings didn't reach her though as she whipped around and stormed off for the girls' dorm while everyone sat there snickering, even Malfoy.

"Stupid Weasel," the Slytherin chortled to himself as he sneaked to the portrait hole. He was headed for Slytherin common room to write his father and return the cloak; his job was finished. His father would be proud, and Voldemort would commend him. He would now be the envy of all the Slytherins and their parents.

Meanwhile, Hermione dropped her books on her trunk and opened her journal to the first page. She was starting a new diary, and for some reason she felt she would start this one in a good way. What she didn't know is that if all followed through, she wouldn't start it at all.


	3. A Glitch In Time

**A/N: **Many thanks to all my lovely reviewers: _Silver Tears 11, pottergirl91, nehimasgift _(You deserved all those reviews. No, I didn't hear a thing about all that kidnapping, and I think Hufflepuff is a wonderful house, though I'm sorted into Gryffindor 99 of the time... other 1 being Ravenclaw. As for Cedric, yeah, big kid at heart, even though at times he'll come across as a soft, charming guy who's a tough Hufflepuff.)_, MandaPandaAR, san01, Vera-Sabe, moonlights desire, _and _svelte._ I owe each and every one of you a big hug! -squee- Now, one with the show... Acid Pop anyone?  
**

* * *

Chapter 3 – A Glitch In Time**

Hermione sighed, sitting down Indian style on the center of her bed as she pulled her diary, quill, and ink bottle to her.

"A clean start," Hermione said to herself with a smile.

She dipped her quill in the blood red ink and took a deep breath. She held her quill above the page as she wondered how to start her first entry into her new diary. She began wiggling the feathery writing utensil between her fingers, dripping ink on the page. The ink, unnoticed by Hermione, disappeared into the page as though it were a paper towel soaking it up. She sighed yet again while thinking peacefully and unsuspectingly to herself. '_Maybe a bit of fresh air?_' she pondered as she got up, laying the quill on the page, and went to open the window.

As she was struggling with the jammed lock, the quill began dripping more onto the page, and just like before, it disappeared.

"How stupid can I be?" Hermione groaned to herself before walking over to the nightstand and picking up her wand. She pointed it at the lock and spoke the spell clearly. "_Alohomora._"

The lock popped, and she pushed the window upward, all the while, the ink still draining from the quill as though the book were magnetically pulling the ink to its pages.

"That's better," Hermione breathed as she crawled back onto the bed, picking up her quill as she went.

She tapped her chin with the quill, flicking out the last few drops of ink and splattering them onto the page. She stared up to her canopy top as the drops disappeared into the page. She was so unaware of just what was happening.

"I've got it," she half exclaimed as she put her quill to the page and tried to write, but there was no ink. "How odd..." Hermione shook the quill, but still no ink. She dipped it in the well yet again and put it to the page, writing neatly across its blank surface.

_Dear Diary,_

_Today was a day like any other. Ron and I had our morning spat, Harry confessed worries about the Dark Lord, Neville needed help, and surprisingly, no remarks from Malfoy. But then again, no one has seen him most of the day. I think it is because he is the one that broke into Dumbledore's office and is trying to hide from the guilt. Hopefully Harry comes forward and tells the Headmaster about his dream. I do hate to see Dumbledore so disappointed and in such a suffering state._

_Potions went off unusually well. Of course, I was called out by McGonagall to go over the prefect meeting for tomorrow night so that might have helped. She wants me to lead the meeting because she is going to be at a conference with Dumbledore about the break-in. It still shocks me to think someone would break into the Headmaster's room. It truly is appalling._

_Transfigurations was exceptionally enjoyable today because for some reason, Ron was somewhat annoyingly apologetic. He kept telling me that he was sorry for saying that I should lay off his case about studying, that he understood I was only watching out for his own well being. The look in his eyes was definitely true, so I knew he was not just saying that just to get my Transfigurations homework from the night before._

_I have got to wonder about Ron anymore. He has been extremely nice, relenting, and forgiving. But then again, he seems withdrawn. When I asked him what he was doing this weekend on Hogmeade Saturday, he stuttered and mumbled something that I could not hear. When I asked him what he said, he avoided the question. I am worried that our friendship has been suffering lately._

_He seems to be around Luna Lovegood a lot more as of late, too. I am happy for him, yet – as much as I hate to admit it – I am jealous. He was so awkward about asking me to the Yule Ball a few years back, so I went to Viktor who was so forward and sweet that I thought he was what I wanted, but I was wrong._

_It would seem that I wasted too much time with Viktor, and now I am mad that I lost that chance with Ron. I really did like him. I suppose I'll just have to resort to loving him from a distance, and if it is up close, it will be nothing more than friends._

Hermione stopped for a moment, dipping her quill into the ink well and went to turn the page, not realizing that the words 'Dear Diary' were gone and 'Today was a day like any other' was starting to disappear.

She continued to write, talking about how Terry Boot was commenting her again and how she had gotten a letter from her mom and dad that told her how her grandparents were and that they hoped she would come home for Christmas. She sighed and put the cap on her ink bottle and laid her things on the nightstand as she got up and put her pajamas on.

She crawled back into bed, her eyelids heavy with sleep, and her mind drifting to a fairy tale land where she was a princess and Ron was her knight in shining armor.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning with a yawn and a cat-like stretch as she swung her legs out of bed. She sat there for a moment before dropping back onto the bed, her feet dangling above the wooden floor that she knew would be cold. 

She was correct. The moment she put her feet on the floor, chills went up her spine, and she ran to the wardrobe for some socks. Once she had a pair on, she stood observing her wardrobe wondering what she could wear. She sighed and decided that today would be a day for comfort, so she pulled out a red jumper and a pair of jeans. After putting them on, she was on her way downstairs when she ran into Parvati and Lavender at the bottom of the stairs.

Parvati looked her up and down before tutting and storming upstairs. Hermione could tell Parvati was angered. They were wearing the same thing shirt, but Hermione wasn't about to change. So with a smile, she bounded over to the couch where Ron and Harry were sitting talking. She dropped down between the two of them and let out a happy sigh.

"So, what are we going to do today?"

"Um, well... I er... I promised...," Ron trailed off after those words, mumbling incoherently as Hermione frowned and turned to Harry.

"I was thinking of going into Hogsmeade with Ginny," Harry replied.

"Really?" Hermione was excited for Harry. She knew that he liked Ginny, and she also knew that Ginny would gladly go with Harry.

"Yeah, really, Harry?" Ron seemed to not know about this, and Hermione became aware of the fact that Harry had yet to tell Ron about this.

"Yeah," Harry replied nervously. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't have time to finish as Ginny came bounding over much in the same way Hermione had.

"Ready, Harry?"

Hermione watched Harry's face go a light shade of pink as he nodded, and Ginny held out her hand for him to take. Hermione recognized that look on his face and those jerky movements. That was exactly the same way he used to get around Cho Chang in third, fourth, and fifth year.

After they had left, Ginny dragging Harry out as Ron stood to say something. Hermione got up too and stood next to Ron in a bashful way as she prepared to ask him something. He turned to her, noticing the smile on her face, and the way she twisted her hands together.

"So, what did you say you were going to do today?"

"Um... well, I've got some uh... some studying to do," Ron stammered.

She frowned as he turned and headed for the portrait hole. '_Well, if he's going to study, there's no reason I can't come help._' Hermione resolved to follow him to the library, but when they came to the fourth floor, Ron passed right by the library.

"Now, where's he going?" Hermione's brow furrowed as she continued to follow him clear down to the entrance hall. She hung back on the first floor just behind a statue at the top of the marble staircase as she watched Ron on the ground floor.

He was standing alone and looking a bit lost until someone came up to him. Hermione frowned further when she realized that it was Luna Lovegood and that they were now holding hands while leaving the entrance hall, undoubtedly heading for Hogsmeade.

Tears welled in Hermione's eyes as she turned and left for the girls' dorm in Gryffindor Tower. She was almost there. She was on the fifth floor when Draco came around the corner.

"Well, if it isn't the Mudblood," he taunted.

She did her best to ignore him, but he wasn't about to have that as he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around to face him.

"What... what's this?" A smile cracked across his face as he looked down at her tear-stained face.

"Sod off," she said in a voice that she had intended to be forceful, but it came out anything but that as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her sleeve.

"What's wrong, Mudblood? The Weasel not love you anymore? Found some weird little Ravenclaw to go for?" Malfoy's taunts weren't making her feel any better, but they weren't making her angry like they usually would either. Instead, they were just upsetting her more.

"Leave me alone," Hermione ordered a little more forcefully as she tried to pull her arm from his grasp, but it was no use. She was about to pull out her wand when someone spoke from behind her.

"Hermione?" She looked over her shoulder to see Terry Boot standing there, books in hand and angered confusion spreading on his face from his furrowed brow. "Let her go, Malfoy."

"Go back to your studies little Ravenclaw... I'm Head Boy, and this is a discussion between the Head Girl and I," Malfoy hissed.

"It doesn't look like any discussion she wants to be in," Terry growled as he stepped forward and dropped his books while pulling out his wand.

"Don't," Hermione advised as she turned back to Malfoy. "I know it was you," she added in a low, grumbling whisper that made Malfoy smirk in proud arrogance as he narrowed his eyes.

"Let her go," Terry ordered again.

"Fine... have it your way," Draco said carelessly as he let go of Hermione's arm, pushing her by it and almost causing her to fall, but Terry had caught her in just enough time.

Once Draco was out of sight and Hermione was upright again, Terry picked up his books and tucked his wand away.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she sighed as she thought about what Malfoy said about Ron not loving her anymore. His voice was echoing in her head. Those words. Those words that she herself had been thinking even before he said it.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, fine. Thanks, Terry," Hermione said softly before continuing on her way to Gryffindor Tower. Terry watched her, his face crest fallen.

"Poor girl. So much brains and stuff, hope she finds someone good for her," he breathed as he frowned and turned to go on his way to Ravenclaw Tower while feeling deep worry for his friend.

Meanwhile, Hermione had entered Gryffindor common room and was now on her way up the girls' dorm stairs. She had ran the rest of the way to the tower because her tears began coming faster and harder. By now, she was in uncontrollable fits of sobbing as she threw herself on her bed and began to cry.

A few minutes later, she had managed to calm herself, figuring that crying wouldn't help anything though she couldn't help but do it. She sighed, reaching to the nightstand for her diary. She opened it and began to write, putting her every emotion on the page because her mother had always taught her that it was good to let out her feelings in a healthy way.

_Dear Diary,_

_This morning has been horrible. I've found out why Ron has been acting so distant. It is just as I suspected, he is with Luna, and I am on the outs. I just wish there was some way to bring him back. I know that if I were to use Viktor that would only make him angry and would not help the situation in any fashion._

Hermione paused for a moment and began to think, her mind swarming with guys.

"Seamus?" she said to herself as she thought about walking into Hogsmeade arm-in-arm with Seamus Finnigan. "No," she sighed. She didn't want to come between friends. That also limited out Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, and Colin Creevey. "Who though?"

She continued to think, wiggling the quill between her fingers and sorting through the boys of Hogwarts. She was so deep in thought that she didn't even notice she was writing on the same page she had the night before.

"I've got it!"

_I know just who to use to get back at him though. If he wants to go for brains in a Ravenclaw, then so will I! I will just go out with Terry Boot. That will show him._

Hermione felt a bit of relief flow through her, but then guilt crept in.

_The only problem with that is, Ron and Luna just might be friends and if I do that, I might hurt Ron. He's hurt me, but I don't want to believe that it was done intentionally. I think that's part of the reason he refrained from telling me in the first place. I would be perfectly understanding if he would just confess though, at least I could try to be.  
_

_I just wish things were not so secretive between us. He shows no emotion towards me, and the time we about kissed last year, he moved away saying he had something in his eye. When I tried to help, he faked sneezing and got up and left. I was more than angry! I mean am I really that ugly?_

Hermione paused to ponder this as she reached into the drawer of her nightstand. She pulled out a tiny mirror and began to look herself over.

"I don't have boils or warts, and my nose isn't crooked or too big. My hair isn't as fizzy or bushy as it used to be. In fact, Lavender said it was quite pretty and even Parvati agreed there. I do have a bit of darkness under my eyes, but that's not anything that can't be fixed. I'm not entirely fat... but I'm not muscular either... Then again, I'm built like Luna," Hermione assured herself. "So what's wrong with me?"

Hermione picked her quill back up and went back to writing, but then she noticed something. The words 'Dear Diary' were gone and 'This morning has been horrible.' were starting to disappear.

"Oh, honestly... stupid invisible ink. I'd like to smack whoever invented it," Hermione grumbled as she put the cap back on the ink well and went to get another one, but it had been the same ink well she had used the night before. It was also the same one she used to write her essays for school, and the writing never disappeared then.

She went back to the page, rewriting everything that she had just written, writing larger than before in her hurry. She moved to the next page, missing the fact that once again, the words 'Dear Diary' were slowly fading.

So much emotion was flowing from her hand, to the pen, and down onto the page as she wrote with fury. She messed up on the next page and began scribbling out the word she had misspelled. But the ink tore a hole in the page so she just ripped it out.

* * *

Many thousands of miles away, Lord Voldemort gasped and clutched his hand. 

"Master?"

"Wormtail, bring me the Invigoration Draught that Dolohov made," Voldemort ordered as his hand felt a stab. "Quickly!"

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, Hermione had went back into fits of sobbing as she lay atop the diary, her tears flowing from the corners of her eyes and falling to the page where they were soaked in quickly. 

"Ron," she sobbed silently as she hugged a picture the Golden Trio that had been taken at the Quidditch World Cup from their fourth year. "W-Why-y?" Hiccups overcame her, and she closed her eyes tight as a fresh wave of tears rushed forward. "Please, Ron!"

* * *

Back at the Riddle House in Little Hangleton, Voldemort felt his heart rate picking up. He clutched at his chest, breathing in a raspy way. It wasn't paining him, but it was shocking him because he certainly hadn't expected this. 

"Wormtail!"

"Y-Yes, M-Master?" Wormtail had come running back into the room, almost stepping on Nagini as he entered. The snake hissed at him as Voldemort dropped into his armchair.

"Send... send for Lucius," th Dark Lord ordered as Peter rushed once more from the room.

* * *

Hermione was still crying, her fits becoming stronger, and her sobs louder. 

"W-Wh-Why can't i-it be l-like it-t us-s-used to be-e?" She hugged the picture tighter, the pages of the diary should have been sopping wet by now, but they were still dry as they soaked in her tears.

She wasn't even paying attention to it as she was distracted by wishing for Ron's hand to shake her by the shoulder and hope that she was in a bad dream.

* * *

Lucius arrived at the Riddle House within a matter of mere minutes. Voldemort was still breathing heavily as Malfoy entered the room, Wormtail in tow. 

"Yes, my Lord?"

"L-Lucius... it's done." The blond haired man crouched at his master's side as the Dark Lord began to cough. "It's done. She's unleashed my memory... he'll soon take essence from her and be more powerful than ever imagined."

Lucius looked to Wormtail who nervously writhed his hands together and stared in horror at the back of his master's head.

* * *

Hermione was still crying as a warmth began to radiate against her cheek. She sat up slowly and looked down at her diary. It was glowing a jade color. She gasped, crawling frantically back to the top of her bed away from its glowing pages as they began to flip like a breeze was blowing them. 

She scrambled to find her wand as the light got brighter. Hermione jumped from the bed and raced for the door as the light changed to a bright gold while wind picked up in the room, though no windows or doors were open. She grabbed the handle as a blast was heard, and the book hit the floor.

She dropped to her knees and looked over her shoulder at the figure of a tall, pale boy who looked to be in his late teens. His dark hair and build was like Harry's, and Hermione knew him instantly from description. Harry had talked about a boy like this being in the Chamber of Secrets in their second year. This was Tom Marvolo Riddle as Harry had saw him, in all his evil and deceiving charm which could chill a person to the bone.

Hermione quivered as she realized just what this meant. She was in the presence of the man that would soon become Lord Voldemort, one of the most powerful evil wizards ever.

"Good morning, my little Mudblood host," Tom laughed as he pulled out a wand and pointed it at Hermione. She whimpered as he sent a spell at her. She had just managed to scramble out of the way and grab the diary.

Riddle cast a spell, and Hermione threw the diary at him as she cast her own incantation. The journal, flying through the air, took both spells at once. When it was hit with two Stunning Charms, the book froze in midair as everything seemed to stop what it was doing. Hermione looked to the window and saw a bird which had been flying by was frozen in mid-flight.

She went to stand as she and Tom looked around, but something jarred like an earthquake, and they both fell to the floor. The book itself dropped as well, and a whooshing sound occurred as everything suddenly began to loose color and fade to gray. Next thing they knew, everything was turning white as a light so bright it could rival the sun was beaming around them.

Hermione screamed when she felt the floor drop from under her, and she began falling as though she'd never hit ground. Just when she thought she would be falling like this forever, she shrieked again and then her drop stopped as she landed on something that let out a loud groan.


	4. Who's Princess Anastasia

**A/N: **You know the drill by now:_ MandaPandaAR, pottersgirl91, svelte, nehimasgift, tofuubeaver, san01, Silver Tears 11, Lizzy Evans, moonlights desire, keeper of the heart, litprincess, PapayaCrazy, Vera-Sabe, Reanne1102, _and_ Alexathenle. _Thanks, y'all. 40 reviews already. Sorry that this chapter wasn't up sooner; kept saying that there was a Timeout Request Error when I tried to upload it. Anyways, it's here now, enjoy!  
**

* * *

Chapter 4 – Who's Princess Anastasia**

"Get off!" Hermione felt herself being pushed off whatever she had landed on. She shook her head and staggered slowly to her feet as she opened her eyes to take in her surroundings for the first time.

She could hardly believe her eyes. There were cobblestone streets, horse drawn carriages, lamp posts with tiny fires glowing inside as a man walked along putting them out with a long pole. What shocked her more was the way people were dressed.

There were women in dresses that looked like they were from books Hermione used to read about princes and princesses from long ago. The men were in tailcoats and knickers that came to their knees with tights underneath. Their hair was worn much like Lucius Malfoy wore his, and what scared Hermione even more, was the sign she saw going up on a building.

"We're two hundred years in the past!" Hermione about fainted as she watched the men putting up the sign with the words _Anderson & Allies_ and below this was the words _Established 1792, Building finished in 1797_.

Hermione turned to Tom to find him digging in trash cans.

"Where is it!" He was throwing things all over the alley that they were in. "What have you done with it?" Riddle rounded on Hermione who backed up in surprise.

"Done with what?"

"The diary! Where is it?"

"How should I know? I'm as lost as you," Hermione snapped.

"This is all your fault," Tom blamed as he continued searching.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione grouched as she turned on her heel and marched out into the street to look around. She hadn't even thought of how strange she must look to these people, but she didn't care. She needed to get out of there and back to her own time.

"Princess Anastasia! Princess Anastasia!" Hermione looked around to see who was yelling, and she was shocked when someone grabbed her up by the elbow. "Princess Anastasia," said an important looking man.

"Excuse me!" This outburst by Hermione caught Tom's attention, and he sneaked over to where she was. He leaned against a building in amusement as Hermione stared in alarm that the man speaking, apparently, to her.

"Come with me, Princess. Your father has been worried sick... it's time to go back to the castle," demanded the man who had seized Hermione.

"Let me go you fool. I'm no Princess. Do you have any idea of just who you're talking to? I mean, are you completely off your bloody rocker!"

"Princess, stop it! This is no time for foolish games. We must get you back to the castle before the King has my head for your absence," hissed the man.

"Let go," Hermione grunted as she tried to wrench her arm from the man's grasp while he began to drag her up the street to a carriage.

"Princess, please," pleaded the man. "I know you don't want to go back to the castle and take your lessons and things, but it is your blood duty... you must do it."

"Lessons? Blood duty? Just who do you think I am? And who are you anyways?"

"You are Princess Anastasia, and I am Lord Johnalin. Now, may we please go?"

"Well, _Lord Johnalin_, you can go, but I'm not going anywhere because I am not Princess Anastasia," Hermione said simply as though that would be the final word, and the man would listen to her.

"This is ridiculous. Guards!" Hermione's eyes widened when she saw two large man come forward and grab her by her arms. "The King is already unhappy with you. The later you are, the more unhappy he'll be."

"Let me go you great stupid goon!" Hermione began failing and kicking when someone yelled from down the street.

"Say you there! What's going on here?" A very decorated man, more important looking than Lord Johnalin, came walking down the street in a military uniform.

"Thank goodness," Hermione sighed in relief, but her savior didn't quite make it to her as he stopped in front of Tom.

"There you are, boy! Where have you been?" The man grabbed Tom up by the arm just as Lord Johnalin had grabbed Hermione.

"Get off you prat," Riddle hissed as the man tried to pull him in the opposite direction of which they were taking Hermione. Everyone stopped at these words though as the military man slapped Tom across the face.

"I am a high ranking officer of the military, boy... show respect, or there will be a severe beating in your future," the man growled. Tom looked anything but warned as he began popping off.

"I don't care who-," he stopped though as he saw Hermione frantically shaking her head to say no.

Silence fell over everyone then as the officer eyed Riddle before raising a hand and pointing down the street.

"Now, get to headquarters, boy!"

Tom glared and then looked to Hermione who shrugged a bit and cleared her throat. This caused the officer to turn around and begin to eye Lord Johnalin.

"What seems to be the trouble here?"

"General Mardon," Lord Johnalin said with a nod of his head. Hermione looked on the man's chest and finally saw up close the decorations he wore. Five stars pinned above an array of colored bars that were in striped formation.

"Lord Johnalin," the General greeted back. "Care to tell me what you're doing with this young la-"

Hermione became a bit uncomfortable as the General's gaze turned to her and then he stopped talking. He looked her up and down for a moment as though he recognized her, this only making her more nervous.

"Princess Anastasia," the General breathed. '_Oh, great another one!_' Hermione thought sarcastically. '_Now, what am I going to do to get out of this?_'

"Princess, the General is addressing you," Lord Johnalin hissed.

"General Mardon," Hermione said curtly with a nod. '_Might as well play along until I can get away from them._'

"Where have you been? We've been combing the city, the country side, and the neighboring villages for you for nearly two weeks now." Hermione looked to Tom who was still standing behind the General, he looked just as puzzled as she felt. "I'm glad that they finally found you, my dear, though it was very irresponsible of you to run off like that," the General added. "Who knows what could have happened to you! And you the only heir to your father's throne."

"Precisely," Lord Johnalin added. "Now, if you'll excuse us, General Mardon... We must be getting our precious Princess back to the castle."

"Certainly," the General said as he rounded on Tom. "Have you still not left yet, boy? Get moving!" The young Dark Lord gave a scornful look at the man and then to Hermione who was being ushered off to the carriage.

The ride in the carriage didn't take long, and when Hermione found herself in front of a sizable castle as big as Hogwarts, she felt she would faint. Who exactly did they think she was and why? And more importantly to her, what would happen when she got in here?

She didn't have to wait long to find that out as she was ushered from the carriage, into the enormous palace, and into a room where the King was working over a large table that was covered in hundreds of papers. She walked slowly up to him, not because she was afraid, but because she was examining the room.

It was long and each wall had banners of blue and silver draped on them. The banners were in between every window and tall as Hermione herself while being twice as wide. There was one lone table which was gigantic by her standards. The legs of the table were thrice the size of her own two legs.

The floor was stone, even, flat stones of gray. At the very end of the room was a seat draped in blue. It sat on a raised platform that was carpeted in silver and a little bit below on the left side, there was another chair draped in blue. This chair was not as large as the first nor was it as important-looking, but it still held a high air about it.

Hermione was soon snapped from her intake though. The King's advisers had begun to leave the room as she heard the clank of a metal instrument on wood. She looked up to see the King looking quite irate, and before she could say anything, yells filled the room.

"What were you thinking? Running off like that! You could have been kidnapped... murdered... raped... Lord knows what else could have happened to you!"

"But I'm not-"

"Don't interrupt me, girl! I will let you know when to speak. Why do you insist on making things hard for me? I know being princess is an overbearing bit of boredom for you, but you will soon be queen, and then you won't have so much time to be bored because you will be making important decisions."

Hermione opened her mouth at this, but the King gave her a look that screamed no, and she closed her mouth as he stood there observing her. He sighed and soon there was a knock at the doors. The King told them to enter, and a young boy of about twelve came in the room and whispered something to the King.

"Certainly, certainly, let them in." Hermione watched curiously as the boy left and then she turned back to the King as she heard marching feet heading down the stone floors of the hall outside.

"Whatever is that?" Hermione looked frantically from the door to the King as a group of about thirty military guards came into the room. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm sorry to inform you, my dear," the King began, "but we can't risk you running away again. You are suspended to the grounds unless you leave with an escort of four military guards and Johnalin."

"What?" Hermione's voice echoed in the hall, and she was about to protest, but she heard struggling coming from the hallway and soon someone was shoved into the room among the ranks of the guards. Hermione noticed that it was Tom and that the man who had shoved him in there was the military's general, Mardon.

"Castle guards, just as you ordered, my king," Mardon informed as he stepped forward and gave a small bow with a tilt of his shoulders. Hermione thought that if he leaned forward anymore, then he might fall over from all the medals and pins he had his suit adorned in.

Turning back to the guards, her eyes landed on a sulking Tom. He too was in a military uniform, though not as bedecked as the General's. Hermione had to admit that Tom looked powerful, and that's when she reminded herself that he still was. In their time or not, he was still a wizard and a seriously powerful and evil one at that, but for some reason, Hermione wasn't worried about this. She was more worried, at least at that point, about holding back the giggles she felt.

His look amused her in a way, but yet there was something handsome about him. '_Wait a minute!_' she thought in sudden disgust. '_This guy is going to become hater of all Muggle-borns and Half-bloods, did I really just think that he was cute? How ridiculous of me!_' Hermione shook the thought from her head and turned back to the King who was going back to work as the guards left the room to go be stationed outside the castle. She was about to address the King when Johnalin entered the room.

"Time for you to go bathe and get ready for your afternoon piano and violin lessons," Johnalin said as he grabbed her hand and elbow on that same arm and lead her from the room.

Hermione was soon pushed into a room with a large brass tub in the center of the floor. It was steaming and there were two girls waiting for her with pitchers of water. A towel was draped over the side of the tub, and Hermione looked around as she waited for the girls to leave.

"Would you like us to help you with your uh- clothing, your highness?" The girls looked at Hermione's attire like they had never seen stranger clothes. Her jeans definitely didn't fit in back at that time, and the shirt probably wouldn't have been invented for another goodness knew how many years.

"No! I would like you to leave though," Hermione administered quickly.

"But-"

"Really... I can manage on my own. Please, just go," Hermione commanded.

"Very well, then," said one of the girls before the both of them sat down their pitchers of water and left. Hermione slipped out of her jeans and shirt before slipping into the tub. The water was hot on her skin, but it felt relaxing after she took a few minutes to adjust to it.

She hadn't been in the tub for more than five minutes when there was a knock at the door. Hermione rolled her eyes and groaned, she was going to hate this for as long as she had to suffer it out if things were going to be like this the whole time. She wished more than ever now that she was back in her own time right at that moment. Or at least when she was done taking a bath.

"Yes?"

"Ma'am? Would you be requiring any help to wash your hair?" A little girl of about nine entered the room, and Hermione couldn't help but smile. The little girl had frizzy hair that was contained under a bonnet-like headpiece, and her face was round yet slightly fearful.

"No, thank you," Hermione sighed as she looked around for the soap. She would just have to hope that they had some at least because there was no way she was getting shampoo and conditioner. Goodness, if her hair was bushy now, she could just imagine it if she didn't get to use either of those haircare products.

Hermione finally found the soap, a small yellow bar that smelled like honey as she washed her hair and skin with it. She made only a small mess as she poured water from the pitchers onto herself to rinse off. When she got back to her own time, she would be more than happy to be able to take a proper bath or, better yet, a shower.

When she had finished, she wrapped a towel around her and looked for some clothes. There wasn't any in sight, and she yelled for someone, but no one came. Resorting to her last hope, Hermione cracked the door and peaked out to check and see if the coast was clear.

"Now's my chance," she breathed as she looked up and down the hall and then took off running for the next room. "Why do these rooms have to be so far apart? No wonder no one could hear me!" Suddenly, Hermione heard the sound of boots hitting the stone floor, and what was worse, they were heading her way. "Oh! No, no, no!"

"Princess?" Hermione stopped dead in the hall and turned around slowly to come face-to-face with three of the guards, three young guards at that. She frowned as she noticed one of them was Tom. "What _are_ you doing?"

"Um... well, you see-"

"Princess Anastasia!"

"Not more people," Hermione groaned as she turned around in the other direction. There before her were the two girls that had been in the room where the tub was. One was holding a dress, and the other had a brush and comb along with some ribbon and a tiara. '_I am not wearing that_,' Hermione thought as she looked at the half-moon crown.

"Well, Princess, it was nice uh... _seeing_ you," said one of the guards as he passed by with Tom and another young man. Hermione flushed as Tom laughed, and they continued down the hall, each occasionally looking back over their shoulder at her.

"Oh, mistress... you shouldn't be out in the draft of the halls. You could catch cold," said one of the girls.

"Mary is right," said the other.

"Let's get you inside, and Janessa and I will tend to your corset and hair," said Mary as they ushered Hermione into the room.

"Corset!" Hermione was shoved back into the room with a tub and pushed back behind a tall folding divider while having a baggy, white jumper-like garment being tossed at her.

"Just put that on, and I'll tie the corset once you have it on," called Janessa.

Hermione slipped her legs into the cotton material and found that it was actually quite comfortable. She giggled inwardly as she pulled the tank top sleeves up over her shoulders. She could only imagine how silly she looked, and she thought how much Ron and Harry would laugh if they could see her.

She frowned now as she buttoned the buttons on her back. '_Harry and Ron_,' she thought sadly. She was beginning to miss them, Ron especially. A tear spilled forward and trickled down her cheek as she recalled seeing him leaving for Hogsmeade with Luna. She hoped that he was having a good time with her now.

"M'lady, are you ready?"

"Just a moment, Mary," Hermione called back as she wiped her face on the back of her wrist and then walked out from behind the divider.

"Now, let's do something with your hair," Mary sighed as Hermione took a seat on a stool by the window. She stared out the glass while Mary brushed her hair, and Janessa hemmed a spot on the bottom of her dress.

"Ready to put on your dress, Princess?"

"Sure," Hermione sighed as she stood up and let Mary and Janessa slip the dress over her head.

"Time to do up your corset," Janessa said with a smile as she went behind Hermione and began to pull the strings that laced up the back of her undergarment. Hermione felt her ribs squeeze and her chest compress as Janessa continued to do up the corset.

"Um... I... can't... breathe," Hermione panted in a squeaky way.

"Don't worry... you should get used to it soon," Janessa said as she patted Hermione's shoulder while Mary put the tiara on Hermione's head.

"There you are, Princess," said Mary as they two of them stepped back to admire her. "It's no wonder she tried to run away with the baker's son," Mary added in a whisper to Janessa.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, Princess. I'm sorry, that was really out of line for me to say that. Please forgive me," Mary begged.

"No, what did you say?"

"You and the baker's son... you two were wonderful together. Both so lovely and so in love... at least you were with him. I can't believe that he left you to come back all alone," Mary sighed.

"It's a good thing that Aramis went after you. Though he got in trouble for leaving. Everyone said he left because he was in love with you, but then there was those who said he left because he wanted to get away from military life," Janessa added.

"Well, I'm not in love with Tom, so that's that."

"Who?"

"Tom."

"Who's Tom?"

"I mean, Aramis...," Hermione soon realized that Aramis was the name of the boy that they had mistaken Riddle for.

"But his name is Aramis D'Artagnan... Where did you get the name Tom?"

"Um... it's just a nickname, that's all," Hermione dismissed as she smiled politely and hoped in a panicked way that they would believe her. She finally decided during that awkward silence that a change of subject would be good. "So, what about my lessons?"


	5. A Plan to Work Together

**A/N:** Much gratitude to: _PapayaCrazy, pottersgirl91, MandaPandaAR, svelte, litprincess, Emi-Bum, tofuubeaver, san01, Silver Tears 11, xxxCheezItxxx, nehimasgift, moonlights desire, hanvu, keeper of the heart, LaNi-GoLDfiSh, Shout, _and _Lizzy Evans. _57 reviews and it would seem that I'm on a roll here. Racking up more reviews in the first four chapters than some of my other stories did when they were finished. Thanks oodles all. And without further ado... the chapter!  
**

* * *

Chapter 5 – A Plan to Work Together**

"Right this way to your lessons, Princess," Mary directed as she and Janessa led the way out of the room. Hermione was almost out when she remember her wand was still in her back pocket of her jeans. She rushed over and picked it up, tucking it up her dress sleeve as she ran to catch up with the two girls.

They led her through the halls, down a set of stairs to the ground floor, and to a very sunny room. In that room sat a chair with a violin upon it, and right next to it was a wooden grand piano.

"Lord Johnalin should be here in a few minutes, Princess," Janessa said before she and Mary curtsied and left. Hermione knew nothing about playing these things. How in the world would she do this? She didn't have time enough to figure this out though as Lord Johnalin came into the room.

"Take your seat at the piano."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said as she walked over to the bench and sat down upon it.

"Now, play Beethoven's first piano sonata in F minor," Johnalin ordered firmly. Hermione really started to panic now. She knew nothing about this kind of stuff. There was no doubt she was smart, but she had never learned this kind of music, or even to play an instrument for that matter. She made a mental note to find out about Beethoven's life when she got back to her time.

Hermione smiled politely and nodded as she cracked her fingers and shook her arms like she was preparing to play, but really she was trying to get her wand to fall out of her sleeve. It wasn't working, the wand was still up in her sleeve, and Johnalin was still waiting. Again, she cracked her fingers and began shaking her arms.

"Anastasia, must I tell you that it is not becoming of a lady to continually crack her fingers?" Johnalin's voice was impatient and even testy. Hermione gulped as finally her wand slid down into her hand.

"Sorry, sir," she apologized as she hid her hands under the piano and waved her wand. She sat there a moment waiting for the piano to begin playing when Johnalin coughed to show his angered impatience. She laughed half-heartedly and put her fingers on the piano keys as she pushed down her fear.

She pushed one key, and a loud donging sound echoed in the room. Johnalin didn't look too happy about this, but suddenly, much to Hermione's relief, the piano began to play, and she only had to pretend to be the one pushing the keys. Johnalin stood there by the piano, his eyes closed as though concentrating on listening while his hands moved like he was directing an orchestra.

A few of the movements across the keys had caught her off guard, but Johnalin didn't notice her scrambling to keep up with the piano, and so she did fine. When she had finished, she smiled up at him, and he frowned. It had sounded perfect to her, but he seemed displeased.

"You did all right, but you need practice... Lots of it," he sneered. Hermione's jaw dropped, she felt like she was with Snape. Maybe he was one of Snape's ancestors. '_No, he's not greasy enough_,' she thought as she stared at him. "I suppose we can move on to the violin."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she got up and moved to the chair where the violin was sitting. She picked it up before sitting and then she placed the violin under her chin while taking the bow in her right hand. She shook her arm, and her wand came sliding down into her hand next to the bow. She acted as though she was going to pull the bow across the strings, but instead, prepared to charm the violin to play by itself just as they piano had done.

"I want you to play Mozart's third violin concerto," Johnalin instructed as he walked over to stand just behind her left shoulder.

Hermione took a deep breath as she laid the bow upon the strings and pulled back, the strings screeching as she did. Hermione grimaced and as she pushed the bow back across the strings, the screech became deeper. This didn't last long though as she whispered a spell, and the violin strings seemed to tune themselves to a beautiful pitch. Soon after, she was pretending to play again.

Johnalin began to circle her chair, and Hermione closed her eyes as she hoped that he wouldn't notice her pretending. She wished that it would end, but it seemed to go on forever to her. Once, she thought she had been done, but it wasn't, it had just been a faint note. She quickly put her bow back to the strings and continued to pretend for a few more minutes before finally coming to an end.

"Again, you need practice," Johnalin said with a disapproving glance at her as she lowered the violin to her side.

"Jerk," Hermione grumbled as he walked over to sit at the piano.

"Now, come pay close attention and watch how this grand instrument is to be played." Hermione rolled her eyes and slouched over to the piano where she stood behind Johnalin glaring down at the keys as he played what he had called Beethoven's Appassionata. Hermione liked the music, but she felt a sort of dislike for it as Johnalin played it, so she let her mind and eyes wonder.

'_I wonder if Harry and Ron know I'm gone? Probably not._' She frowned and turned to the window, looking out upon the garden. When she did, she saw Tom sneaking off across the grounds. Where was he going?

* * *

"Lucius," gasped Voldemort as Malfoy helped him back into his armchair. "Something's gone wrong... I can feel it." 

"What do you mean, my Lord?"

"I feel a great distance from him. It's as though he's no longer at Hogwarts, or...," the Dark Lord explained weakly, pausing to clench his bony jaw as pain shot in his chest. "Find out where he's gone and right this imperfection in the plan. I cannot reenact the actions I've made to do this."

* * *

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Harry and Ginny were on their way back from Hogsmeade. 

"She wasn't there anywhere, Harry," Ginny sighed. "I'm worried about her."

"She and Ron were supposed to come into the village," Harry said as they drew nearer to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"But Ron was in the village with Luna," Ginny said as she stopped and looked at Harry. Both knew exactly what was happening.

Ron was afraid to tell Hermione the truth, so he had lied, and she had more than likely found that out. They just hoped that they could reach Hermione before she did something too drastic. Hermione wasn't the type to loose her head, but she did really like Ron, and they could only imagine half of what she felt to find out what Ron was doing.

"Let's hurry," Ginny said quickly as she and Harry broke out into a run for the common room. It didn't take them long to get in, but as soon as they did, they saw Lavender come running down the girls' dormitory looking distraught.

"Where's Hermione?"

"I don't know, Harry," Lavender panted. "But the whole dorm's a mess."

"Go get Professor Dumbledore. Hurry!"

"Oh, Harry, I hope she's okay," Ginny breathed as she felt a panic rise in her chest.

"I'm sure she's fine," Harry soothed as he hugged Ginny.

It didn't take long for Dumbledore to get there. He moved swiftly across the common room, Harry and Ginny now hot on his heels.

"Oh, dear," Ginny whispered as she looked around the room. Everything appeared wind-blown. The covers on the beds had been blown off and were piled around the room. Chairs had been toppled, clothes strewn, and books knocked off stands while papers lay scattered on the floor. It was reminiscent of Harry's room during his second year when someone had stolen Tom Riddle's diary from him.

'_How ironic_,' The-Boy-Who-Lived thought while speaking up to the Headmaster.

"What's happened here, Professor?"

"I'm not certain, Harry," Dumbledore said as he walked over to the middle of the room and picked up a charred book.

"What's that?" Ginny stepped forward and recognized what Dumbledore held in his hands, or at least the remains of it. "That's Hermione's new diary. She showed it to me last weekend when we went into Hogsmeade together."

"This is not Miss Granger's diary, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore sighed as he rubbed the bottom of the back cover. Slowly, the words 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' appeared in dull, gold letters.

Ginny's eyes grew wide, and she backed away. Bad memories flooded her mind as she placed herself close to Harry, the one who had saved her from the horrors of Tom Riddle and his diary before. She only hoped that Hermione wasn't suffering the same.

"Professor!" Dumbledore, Harry, and Ginny turned around to see Lavender and Draco pushing their way into the dorm. "Tell him to get out!" Lavender demanded. "This is the Gryffindor's common room and dormitories. A _girls'_ dorm at that!"

"Get out of my way, Brown! I'm Head Boy, like it or not, and that gives me right to be where I want," Draco hissed as he pushed her aside and walked up to Dumbledore. "I always knew that Granger was filthy," Malfoy grumbled as he looked around the wrecked dorm. "Where is she?"

"Miss Granger? She seems to be missing," Albus answered calmly.

"Of course you'd know all about that, you disgusting little ferret!"

"Shut it, Weaselette," the Head Boy snapped. "Well, wherever she is, she needs to get to the village, it's her turn to patrol."

"For now, Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid that it is up to you to continue patrol as we cannot find her," the Headmaster directed still full of dignified composure.

"I knew that sharing duties with her would be the worst," Draco smarted as he turned on his heel and left.

"Nasty little snake," Lavender mumbled as he went.

"What are we going to do, Professor?"

"The only thing we can, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore sighed as he looked down at the diary. "Put out a search party for Miss Granger and hope for the best. I think I need to go talk to some of the Ministry members and some of Hogwarts staff." This of course meant that he was going to see the Order of the Phoenix. "Miss Brown, would you go into the village and find Minerva and tell her what's going on? Miss Weasley, please go find Hagrid and inform him as well. Mr. Potter, come with me."

With that, the four went their separate ways, Ginny and Lavender running down the front lawns of Hogwarts, and Dumbledore and Harry heading back to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

"Now, Anastasia," Johnalin hissed. "You are dismissed. Go wash up for lunch with your father and the Duchess Rodmilla and the Duke Rodden of Holyhead." 

"Fine," Hermione grumbled as she left. She intended to go wash up, but something else was on her mind. She was going to see where Tom was going. She soon found the door outside and ran around the castle to where he had been. He wasn't there any longer though. "TOM!"

She looked around, she had heard a bush rustle, but she saw no one. A smile crossed her face as she saw something though. A piece of rock had just flew out of the nearby rose bush.

"Hello, Tom," Hermione said snootily as she pushed back the branches of the bush and found Tom crouched there, chipping away at the stone wall that guarded the castle.

"Shh! What do you want?" Riddle hissed.

"To know what it is that you think you are doing."

"None of your business."

"How dare you speak to the Princess that way," she laughed evilly. He glared up at her and grimaced before going back to his chipping. "You know, that's going to take ages. You'd be better off sneaking out of the gate at night while no one was watching." Tom stopped and looked up at her in annoyance.

"Well, if you hadn't been a _royal_ pain, then they wouldn't have guards stationed all over the castle at all hours."

"How do you know they are there at all hours?"

"The little military dorks were talking about it... asking who gets what shift when. They seemed to fight about which of them got my shift," Tom informed.

"Oh, and why is that?" Hermione found his tone to be one of gloating with his last sentence, and it bothered her that he could be so arrogant at a time like this.

"Because I get to walk the castle corridors just after dinner until five in the morning," Tom replied.

"And what's so special about that?"

"Well, since everyone heard about your little adventure out into the halls in nothing but a towel, they are hoping to get into the castle to see you do it again," Riddle laughed.

"Oh, shut up you! And get out of there. We'll look like fools if we're caught." Tom realized that this was true and stood up immediately, stepping over the bush that Hermione was holding. "Oh, and this is for laughing at me earlier today," Hermione added as she let go of the bush that he was now straddling.

The branches came back into place with a thwacking sound as it hit Tom. He winced and groaned from somewhere deep in his throat as the thorny branches hit him on the inner thigh. Hermione stood there with a satisfactory smile as she watched him climb the rest of the way over the branch and begin to pull out the thorns.

"You horrid little Mudblood," Tom hissed as he pulled out the last thorn and groaned.

"That will teach you," Hermione gloated with an arrogant air as she turned and went off along the garden path. "And look who's talking about not being of pure blood," she added over her shoulder.

"Stupid little girl," Tom grumbled.

"What was that?"

"I said _stupid_ little girl," Tom repeated for her.

"Oh, yeah, stupid," Hermione huffed. "At least I wasn't trying to chip away at a two foot thick brick wall!" The young Dark Lord glared at her as she raised her eyebrows with a finalization on that note. "And you're supposed to be all high and mighty Lord Voldemort... real ingenious plan there."

"Shut your face," Riddle growled as he advanced on her.

"Or what? You'll curse me into oblivion," Hermione taunted, though as she said this, she realized that he probably would and soon after shut up.

"So, do you have a better idea on how to get out of here?"

"Why should I tell you? You were trying to leave without me anyways," Hermione spat.

"See, you don't have a better idea," Tom said triumphantly.

"I do too, and you'll see that when I'm gone, and you're still here guarding this castle, Mr. Know-It-All," Hermione said in the same tone as Tom's winning attitude diminished. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as he stood there looking at her. She smiled cockily and crossed her arms as well, shifting her weight to her right foot as she waited for him to relent. It felt good to her to call someone else a know-it-all.

"Fine," he gave in. "We'll have to work together if we really want to get out of here."

"You aren't lying, are you?" Hermione raised her eyebrows and uncrossed her arms to put her hands on her hips as she began to stare at him in a penetrating way.

"No, I'm not lying," he hissed. "We have a deal."

"Good," Hermione chirped in triumph. "Now, I've got to go get ready for lunch with the King and some other important people while you stand out here and guard _me_," she laughed before turning and walking away with a bit of bounce in her step.

"Brat," Tom mumbled as he went back to his post below the Princess's bedroom window.

* * *

"Professor, what exactly do you think happened here?" Harry was turning Tom's diary over and over in his hand, it's charred cover leaving black soot on his hands. 

"I believe, Harry, that Miss Granger somehow either got pulled into Tom's diary where he is holding her hostage, or they, meaning Tom and Miss Granger, have been pulled into an alternate time," Dumbledore explained.

"You mean... Hermione's stuck somewhere in time with Tom Riddle?" Harry was slow to catch the concept, but Dumbledore believed that it was because Harry didn't want to believe that Hermione's situation could be true. He sounded all too shocked and worried to even give in to a fraction of that suggestion.

"Yes, but don't panic. This could put Tom at a disadvantage as well."

"How?"

"He's in a totally different time from his own, he knows little of his surroundings, and it's possible that he's in trouble in some way or another. I can't be entirely sure," Dumbledore eliminated.

"So, how exactly are we going to help her?"

"That I can't be sure of. The diary is ruined... far beyond repair, even Voldemort couldn't restore it this time. Without that as a portal to her, I can't say how we would locate her to help her if we could," the Headmaster sighed.

"What do we do in the meantime?"

"I'm afraid, Harry, that all we can do is sit back and wait patiently... hope for the best even," Albus answered glumly.

"Poor Hermione," Harry muttered as he looked down at the diary in his hands, a frown on his face.

* * *

"Anastasia! There you are," called the King as he walked down the hall toward her. She had just emerged from her room, dressed and ready for lunch in a light periwinkle blue dress of velvet and a golden tiara with her hair in soft curls falling to her shoulders. She smiled as the King approached her, but she was soon frowning as he held out his arms for a hug. Hermione knew she must play the part of the princess until she could leave, but she wasn't happy about hugging some strange man she had never met before in her life. 

"Father," Hermione said politely as she hugged him awkwardly.

"I see you are ready for lunch," he beamed as he held her at arms length and looked her over. "My, you do look like your mother more and more every passing day." Hermione couldn't help but smile because she had heard her own father, Mr. Granger, say that to her one day as she got off the Hogwarts Express to come home.

Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered her own family back in her own time. Would they know by now that she was gone?

"What's this?" the King wiped her cheek with his thumb and smiled proudly.

"Tears of pride," Hermione lied as she wiped her cheeks a little more affectively than the King had.

"Well, I have just the thing to cheer you up!"

"What would that be, Father?"

"As you know, the Duchess and Duke of Holyhead are coming to join us for our luncheon, but the General is as well. So, as a favor to you and as thanks to the boy, I personally invited Aramis," the King explained.

'_Aramis? Who's Ara- Oh no! Not Tom!_' Hermione was grimacing and wishing that she could just go home right now. She had even tried clicking her heels together like Dorthy did in one of her favorite Muggle movies, _The Wizard of Oz_. No such luck though.

"What's the matter, dear? You look upset," the King said.

"Um," Hermione needed to think up a lie really quick. "I'm just uh... worried!"

"Worried?"

"Yes! About my dress... Do I look all right?"

"Yes, you are more beautiful than the Morning Glories in the garden," the King laughed as he escorted her to the entrance hall where he said they would be meeting their guests for lunch in the garden.


	6. Lunch with Tom & Royalty

**A/N:** My deepest gratitude to all reviewers: _san01, tofuubeaver, pottersgirl91, Lizzy Evans, nehimasgift, litprincess, MandaPandaAR, hanvu, Silver Tears 11, PapayaCrazy, LaNi-GoLDfiSh, Emi-Bum, svelte, bigmamatree, kat6528, Shadows08,_ and_ BehindBlueEyes52._ Y'all have no idea how freaking fabulous you are! 74 reviews and that's only on the first 5 chapters! Not even half way (this chapter makes halfway) to where I've written. And I'm not done yet. -winkety wink- Welp, enjoy the chapter, my friends.  
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Chapter 6 – Lunch with Tom & Royalty**

Hermione walked out into the entrance hall on the King's arm and noticed the Duke and Duchess of Holyhead waiting. Both were extremely plump, just like the King.

The Duke was an older man with a white mustache that was so bushy, Hermione wasn't quite sure how food could get past it to his mouth. He had glasses on, yet he squinted his beady black eyes as she walked over to him and nodded gracefully. He offered to take her hand, and she hesitated. This whole touching strangers thing was really starting to get to her.

"Your highness. So wonderful to see you looking like such a grown up lady," he greeted as he kissed her hand, his mustache tickling her knuckles and making her giggle.

"Anastasia," said the Duchess. Her tone was as snooty as the expression on her face which seemed to radiate a disgusted sort of attitude toward Hermione. Hermione frowned and sighed as she turned back to the King who was talking to the Duke.

"I've invited General Mardon and one of this troops, Aramis, to lunch with us, is that all right with you, my good man?"

"Sounds excellent," said the Duke.

"Shall we go out into the garden and meet them, then?"

"Most positively," the Duke agreed. Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed as she slouched and followed her father, the Duchess grimacing at her as she passed.

"Young ladies should not slouch. They should stand _tall _and _straight _while holding their head _high_. It's good for the posture, you know," the Duchess sniffed.

"Well-," Hermione began in an angered voice, but she remembered herself and that she should be polite and continued in a different tone. "That's very useful to know. I'll keep that in mind," she added politely as she stood up straight and held her head high while continuing to walk outside.

When they entered the garden, Tom and the General were standing there in military uniforms of bright red with white pants and black boots to their knees. Both had gold fastenings on their red jackets, and the General had a golden sword at his hip.

Hermione did a double take as she looked at Riddle, but he caught her and smirked as he narrowed his eyes.

"Ah, General Mardon... Aramis," the King greeted. "Shall we all sit down, then?"

"Absolutely. Aramis... get the Princess's seat for her. Duchess, would you like me to help you into your chair?" Mardon offered.

"Why, General, how generous," the Duchess laughed as she nodded. The General walked over and pulled out the chair for the Duchess as the King and the Duke took a seat, and Tom pulled out the chair for Hermione. She took her seat cautiously as the young Dark Lord grinned broadly in a malicious way.

"Let me push you in," he whispered evilly as he gave a forceful shove on the back of the chair that sent Hermione flying toward the table. She gasped as her stomach became compressed between the back of the chair and the table.

She adjusted the chair and glared at Riddle who was trying to suppress a laugh. At first, Hermione thought that he was doing so because of her, but then she saw that he wasn't even looking at her. Instead, he was looking across the table as he went red in the face from holding in the laugh. Hermione looked to where he was looking and saw that the General was having a bit of trouble pushing the Duchess in now that she was sitting on the chair that he had pulled out for her. Hermione was the one trying to suppress a giggle now as Mardon went red in the face while pushing on the chair with tremendous force. The Gryffindor about suffocated as she pressed her face into her hands when the Duke got up and began to help the General.

"I say... this... chair is... _stuck_," the General grunted as they finally got her chair pushed in with a last shove.

"It must have been the sidewalk," the Duke sighed as he wiped a bit of perspiration off his forehead with his napkin while taking his seat once more.

"Yeah, the sidewalk she cracked when she sat her fat bottom down," Tom mumbled. Hermione heard him and almost choked as she snorted and tried not to laugh out loud.

"I say, child, are you all right?"

"Ye-yes, Duke... I'm... I'm fine. Thank you," Hermione rebounded as she shook off the urge to chuckle again and sat up straight while looking toward the King.

"I hope that tripe and linguini carbonara are fine with everyone?"

"Tripe!" Hermione's stomach turned at the word.

"Yes, dear, I knew that it was one of your favorite meals, so I thought that maybe you would want to share with everyone," the King announced happily.

"Oh, why yes, I would," Hermione said in an attempt to cover her shock.

"It's horrible for a young lady to raise her voice any louder than that of a whispering wind," the Duchess corrected. Hermione rolled her eyes as Riddle smirked at her from the seat on her left before listening in on what the King, Duke, and General were talking about.

"... it's abominable. To think that they are challenging us," General Mardon huffed. "I mean, with our army, we could easily take them down and out. And as if our army isn't good enough already, we have more and more upstanding, fine young gentlemen coming in everyday. Isn't that right, Aramis?"

"Uh... huh! Yeah, that's right, sir," Tom played along. "Lots and lots of new recruits."

"That's marvelous," the King roared as he lifted his glass for a toast. "To General Mardon and his army... may peace always reign over this great country!"

"Here, here! Cheers!" Everyone raised their glasses, and Hermione's nose crinkled at the taste of the drink in her hand.

"What's wrong, dear?"

"Nothing, Father," Hermione lied. "It's just my drink. It tastes bitter."

"Ah, yes, it's the best wine in the country. You love Chamberry Curtell," the King beamed. "Don't you?" He stopped smiling and raised his brow at her as he waited for her to answer.

"Yes. Of course. I just think it surprised me a bit... I've not had it in a while," Hermione smiled.

"That's my girl," the King said proudly. "But if you like, I can have the maid bring out some apple cider. Would you like that?"

"Yes, very much, thank you," Hermione replied as she sat down the bitter red liquid in her golden goblet and pushed it away from her. She did notice however, that Tom had finished off his glass and that the Duke was pouring him a clear liquid. "What's that you're drinking?"

"Ah, Princess, this is some of the finest liquor in my home land of Holyhead. It's special made... I believe the salesman in the market called it vodka," the Duke explained as he stopped just short of overflowing Riddle's glass.

"Vodka, did you say?" Hermione faintly remembered Ginny going to a party with some friends one summer where she drank this Muggle alcohol. Hermione had supported Ginny back to the Burrow where she had to stand in the bathroom next to Ginny and hold her hair back as the youngest Weasley threw up from consumption of the drink.

"Yes, vodka." The Duke uncorked the bottle again and stood up, leaning over the table toward Hermione's new empty glass that the maid was preparing to pour cider in. "Would you like some?"

"No. Thank you though, but no," Hermione declined.

"I'll take some more though... if that's all right with you?" Hermione turned to Tom as she raised her glass of apple cider to her mouth. She was in shock. Riddle had finished that full goblet of vodka and was wanting more.

"Now, that's my kind of boy. A young gentleman who knows how to handle and drink his fair share of fine liquor. Good man," the Duke congratulated as he poured the future Voldemort another brim-touching glass of the potent alcohol.

Hermione shook her head as she watched Tom gulp down half the goblet in one drink.

"Don't you think you should stop?" she advised as he winced at the burning sensation which filled his throat and nose.

"Why?" he quizzed, taking another gulp.

"Because we've not even began lunch, and you've put away a goblet of wine _and_ vodka. Not to mention the fact that you're about done with that one," Hermione scolded.

"Just because you can't drink, doesn't mean I can't," Tom mumbled to her as the main dishes were brought to the table and served to them.

Hermione was more than thankful for the linguini carbonara because the tripe didn't look too good. Its creamy white color and feathery looking texture made Hermione's stomach turn as she grimaced and watched Tom take a large bite. She swallowed and began to stare down at her own plate, feeling bile rise in her throat.

Lunch ended on a good note with the Duke and the Duchess arguing. It might not have seemed like a good note to others, but it had been to Hermione. She had yet again been telling Riddle to lay off the drinks, seeing as he was on his fifth glass of vodka and his fourth glass of wine, when the Duchess spoke up and told Hermione to mind her business because ladies were not to tell gentlemen what to do. This lead to the Duke, who himself was a bit tipsy, telling the Duchess that she was a 'tight wad' and that she should mind her own business herself. Hermione had snorted with laughter as the Duchess sat there looking appalled, but the Gryffindor cared not. She was glad that someone had told off that nasty lady before she did.

"Rodden, Rodden! Come, come, my good man. The General and I plan to go to the drawing room to look at some of the maps of the country side, would you like to join us?"

"Why, yes, that would be wonderful," the Duke agreed before hiccuping and getting up to leave the table with the King and Mardon. The Duchess rose from her seat, clicking her fingers so that one of the maids would follow her as she said something about needing her nails and hair tended to before resting for a bit.

This left Hermione and Tom alone, but it was no use to Hermione that she could be alone with him now. The teenaged Dark Lord was completely punch drunk and had no common sense to him at the moment.

"I'm going inside. I'll leave you to wallow in your drunken state," Hermione tutted as she rose and started off for the castle across the garden path. She was almost onto a different walkway that ran along the castle and to the front door when she heard some dishes clank behind her.

She looked back and saw that Tom had finished his drinks and was headed towards her. She shook her head and turned to continue walking, hoping that he would stumble and fall and stay there in the gravel to sleep it off. But her wishes were dashed when she heard his feet upon the gravel behind her.

"Just go away," Hermione mumbled in prayer. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that he was advancing on her and quick. "God, he walks fast for a drunk! Fall, fall, please, fall."

"I need to talk to you," Riddle managed as he suppressed a hiccup.

"You're drunk, so there's no use talking to you," Hermione pointed out in a dignified tone.

"Stop! I wa-nt... want to tal-k... talk," Tom hiccuped.

"Go away," Hermione ordered with annoyance as she pulled her dress up to her knees and started to jog away from him.

"No you don't," the unseasoned Voldemort growled as he grabbed her arm and spun her around forcefully to face him. Her back hit the stone wall of the castle, and she winced and grimaced as she got a whiff of the potent and horrid alcoholic perfume.

"You need to go bathe," Hermione choked. Tom said nothing to this as he kept a hold on her elbows, keeping her pinned to the castle wall. He watched her turn her head back and forth, from side to side, and something came over him.

He thought her extremely beautiful at that moment in time. The way her gentle, light brown, silky looking curls bounced gracefully with every turn of her head. Her lips looked gorgeous and full as she frowned at his grip on her. And she did look ravishing in her dress and tiara.

"Riddle, let go! You're hurting me," Hermione groaned as she struggled to free herself from his grip.

"Look at me," he said gently. She didn't want to look at him because that would make the smell stronger if she faced him directly. But she did as she was told because something in his voice and the way he told her to look at him made her want to more than ever.

Without warning, Tom leaned forward quickly and pressed his lips to hers as she looked up at him. She was in shock. Hermione could barely move as she stood there wide-eyed, her nose burning with the smell of alcohol, and her lips firmly against his. He pulled away slowly, savoring the moment as it ran through his mind while her big chocolate brown eyes stayed locked on his face, waiting for feeling to flow back into her numb lips. He loved the look of shock on her face for some reason unknown to him. The surprise in her expression seemed to say that she liked it, and as he gently let go of her, she slid slowly to the right and away from him.

Something inside him didn't want her to leave, so he reached out to grab her arm again, but this time something was different. For when he spun her around, her hand met painfully in a stinging manner with his cheek and left him in shock this time.

"Don't you ever touch me again," Hermione warned through gritted teeth. She felt so helpless and scared of him in that moment, and she wasn't sure why. He was the future Dark Lord, and it seemed to worry her more that he kissed her than it would if he were to threaten her with the Killing Curse.

* * *

Later that night, Hermione lay awake in her bedroom, hugging her pillow and staring out the open balcony door at the star-strewn sky. Suddenly, a sound came from outside her bedroom door. Then there was a knock and the groan of someone who was either in pain or someone who was trying to scare her. 

"Hello?"

"Get... out here," Tom called hoarsely.

"Riddle?"

"No, it's bloody Father Chrismtas. Just get out here," the future Dark Lord grouched before giving another groan. Hermione slowly crept out of bed and to the door as she wrapped a dressing gown around her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sick you imbecile. I need you to do a spell for me because I can't get it right at this moment in time due to-"

"Your drunken state," Hermione finished. "I told you to stop, didn't I? Hmm?"

"Yeah, yeah, now shut up and get to it," Riddle ordered.

"Why should I? This should teach you to listen next time," Hermione scolded. She was loving being able to rub this into his face. He was such a jerk, and he was getting what he deserved.

Suddenly, Hermione didn't feel so powerful anymore as she watched Tom rush past her and lean over the balcony to throw up. Hermione grimaced as she remembered Ginny doing something of the same. Recalling how miserable the only Weasley girl had said she had been while she was doing this, Hermione realized that Riddle's stomach probably turned and ached just as Ginny's had. It was then that Hermione realized, good or bad, no one deserved to suffer like this. Not to mention she did need his help to get things back to rights.

"Sit down," the Gryffindor sighed as he came back into her room and got she her wand off of the nightstand.

He had been about to lower himself onto the trunk below her bed when he felt sick once more. Getting up, he went back out onto the balcony and awaited the wave of nausea to pass. Hermione exited the room as well to find him sitting on the stone floor, his back against the railing, and his face pointed to the heavens with his eyes closed tight. He was clutching his stomach and moaning a bit. It was apparent that he truly was in pain.

Hermione could hardly believe it. She had never thought that something like this could tear down Tom Riddle, future Dark Lord. That's when she realized that he was human, and like all humans, Tom needed someone to love and care for him.

Sighing again, she sat down, pointed her wand at his stomach, and watched his facial expression lighten as the spell took affect. She then summoned a washrag from off her dresser, along with a bowl of cool water. She dipped the rag into the water and wrung it out before moving to wipe his face off.

"What are you doing?" Tom had seized her by her wrist in an all too tight grip as he glared at her suspiciously.

"I was just going to wipe the sweat off your face. You look exhausted. You really should get some sleep," Hermione said as he let go of her so she could wipe his face.

She cupped his face with her left hand and wiped gently with her right, dabbing his forehead and staring into the depths of his eyes which were stone cold and emotionless.

"There," Hermione whispered as she put the rag back into the bowl and continued to stare at him. She watched his eyes, waiting for some kind of expression, emotion, anything. Then something happened.

His eyes glittered for a second, a warm, strange, but inviting glitter before they went back to being cold and unfeeling.

"I don't need your pity," he growled before jumping to his feet swiftly and walking back into her room.

She watched him disappear out the door before she gathered the bowl and rag to take back into her room. Normally, she would have been mad had it for instance been someone like Ron, but she found herself pitying him rather than being mad. This was strange. She reminded herself that he was Lord Voldemort, a seriously dark and evil wizard of her time. But something weird occurred. A voice that was like her own in sound, yet not like her own in feeling pushed up from her throat and spoke out.

"Not yet he's not. Not Voldemort yet." Sighing, she felt herself smile while remembering those eyes locked on her own.


	7. Homesick

**A/N:** I'm feeling rather lazy right now, so I'm going to thank everyone here and let it go at that: _svelte, litprincess, pottersgirl91, tofuubeaver, Lizzy Evans, hanvu, san01, nehimasgift, Silver Tears 11, PapayaCrazy, MandaPandaAR, _and _bigmamatree_.  
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Chapter 7 – Homesick**

Quite a bit of time had passed since that night, a month to be exact. Hermione had her daily lessons with Johnalin and many more lunches and dinners with rich, important royals.

They had bored her to be truthful, and she was starting feel that boredom grow to a homesick feeling. She and Tom had started meeting in the garden and the castle's library every day after lunch and before Hermione's evening lessons. They had worked harder than ever to find a way of getting home, but without the diary, things seemed hopeless.

"There's got to be a way," Hermione whined as she closed one of the books in the library and turned to Riddle who was staring out the window in a thoughtful way. "And I'll never find that way if you just sit there," she scolded, breaking him from his concentrated state.

"Panicking and searching every God forsaken book in this castle isn't going to get you anywhere either," he said smoothly. "No book around here is going to have anything you need," he continued as he picked up a thick tome, leafed through it, and then tossed it over his shoulder onto the floor.

"At least I'm trying," Hermione snapped. "In fact, you don't seem worried about this at all. You probably have the diary, and you're just waiting for a time to use it without me."

"Oh, hardly," Tom hissed. "If I had the diary, I wouldn't wait, and I certainly wouldn't be sitting here with you now."

"Well, if you are so bothered by my presence, why don't you just leave!"

"After you, _Princess_," Tom said snidely as he jumped up from his chair and pointed to the library door. Hermione rose from her seat and stood there with her fists clenched as she glared at him.

"We're not going to get anywhere with you acting like a bloody jerk," Hermione retorted.

"I'm not a jerk. It's you that's the unpleasant one," Riddle fought as he slammed his palms onto the table, leaning across it as he glowered at her.

"And how, pray tell, am I being unpleasant?" Hermione exclaimed as she mirrored Tom's actions and slammed her palms onto the table while leaning over it, still scowling at him. They were now only inches apart, both breathing heavily out of anger which was most definitely roused by the hopelessness and frustration of the situation they were in.

"You're being unpleasant because you've let that whole princess thing go to your head. You're not really a princess, so quit trying to boss people around. I am smart enough to get us out of here and figure things out on my own. I don't need your help at all," the youthful Voldemort growled.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," the Gryffindor girl said in a low threatening tone. She could feel it coming, faster than she could stop it, her tongue ran away with her, and her mind was completely left behind. "I know things about you that could make your short dark hair curl, _Voldemort_."

"Watch it, Granger!"

"I am watching, _Riddle_, and I'm not afraid of what I see unlike any other that would face you. Think of me as a Harry Potter replacement for the time being," Hermione whispered dangerously.

"Harry Potter is nothing more than a _foolish_ boy who won't ever amount to anything but a limp, lifeless body on the floor after I finish with him," Tom threatened back. Hermione didn't know what to say to this, but he wasn't going to silence her. She snorted angrily, and he narrowed his eyes on her as she glared harder at him.

She could feel his breath tickling her chin as it came in angry huffs from his flared nostrils. Tension in that room was so think that it could have been cut with a knife, but things soon came to a halt when someone coughed from the doorway.

"Anastasia... dear?" Hermione turned quickly as Tom straightened up to see the King in the doorway. He was being followed by Johnalin and another man which Hermione had never seen in the castle before. "I just wanted to let you know that I would be gone tonight and tomorrow night so if you would need anything, you must send word with one of the guards to the Scottish country side."

"Yes, Father," Hermione replied as she walked across the room to his outstretched arms. Hermione had become somewhat accustomed to this hugging ritual, though she was still a bit uncomfortable with it.

The King released Hermione and nodded to Riddle before turning and leaving, Johnalin staying behind a moment as he glared over at the juvenile Dark Lord. Hermione turned to Tom as he stood there, jaw clenched, watching Johnalin's back retreat from the room.

"We've got to work fast," Hermione whispered urgently as she rushed across the room to Tom. "Now's our chance since he is leaving. I won't have lessons, and the King won't be here so I will hardly be missed."

"Then we had better get back to that alley and check for the diary," Riddle instructed, still not taking his eyes off the door that Johnalin had disappeared through.

* * *

"Granger... get your lazy rear up," Tom hissed as he crept into her room in the dark. He had sneaked in once more and was walking blindly around her room. Suddenly, he tripped over a cushioned bench and fell on his face. He groaned as Hermione sat bolt upright in her bed and began looking around wildly. 

"Tom?" Her voice was soft, almost scared.

"Who do you think?" His voice dripped with sarcasm and hatred as she slowly slid out of her high king-sized bed and slid on some slippers.

"What _are_ you on about?"

"Well, I _was_ trying to get in here to wake you up and let you know that I've come up with a plan, but _someone_ left this Merlin forsaken bench in my bloody way," Riddle snarled viciously.

"What a temper! You're worse than anything I've ever seen," Hermione snapped. "Get up off the... floor," she demanded as she grabbed his arm and helped pull him up. "So, what's this plan?"

"My plan," Tom began snootily as he brushed himself off, "is to sneak out while the King is away with that cocksure Johnalin and the General... The guard around here is lax while they are away, I noticed that," Tom continued as he nodded toward the balcony.

Hermione could faintly hear him babbling about something, but for some reason she was too busy staring at his face. He had a certain handsome aura about him when he was in the dark. His eyes glittered and glinted, his hair gave him a dark, forbidding essence that made her feel drawn to him.

"Don't you agree?"

"What?"

"Are you even listening?"

Hermione just stared up at him and bit down on her bottom lip as he grunted with frustration and rolled his eyes while tossing his arms up in the air.

"Just like a girl... never listening. I should have known better than to work with her."

"Excuse me!" Hermione's anger jumped to life, and she began thrusting a finger into his chest as she ranted angrily at him. "_We_ wouldn't be here if it wasn't for _you_! You... you and your stupid older counterpart, Voldemort! It's your ignorance that's got us here! You and your moronic diary!"

By now, Hermione had backed Tom up so far across the room that he was teetering near the bed as she gave one last painful poke at his chest and watched him fall back onto the matress. She shook her head, her slightly bushy curls bouncing in a gorgeous fashion at the sides of her head. This didn't phase Riddle though as he became angry with her for placing the blame on him for this situation.

"My fault! I think not! Who was it that threw the diary at me?"

"What was I supposed to do? Let you curse me?"

"It would be a hell of a lot better than being stuck here," teenaged Voldemort yelled in her face as he threw his arms up once more to gesture to their surroundings.

"Oh, yeah, sure it would," Hermione said sarcastically. "For you maybe."

"You shouldn't be so selfish!"

"Selfish? Selfish! Oh, you're one to talk Mr. I'm-One-Of-The-Biggest-Dark-Wizards-Of-The-Age-Who's-Trying-To-Take-Over-All-Of-The-Wizarding-World!" Hermione was in his face once more, but he just stared down at her, unmoved by her threat. Her eyes held a fire, and her lips were going white from being pursed so tightly. Tom had to admit that she was fiery, and it was, in a way, sexy.

'_What! Where did that come from? Sexy? Get a hold on yourself_,' he thought in disgust. Hermione noticed the sudden scrunch of his nose and the knitting of his eyebrows. She wondered what could give him such a look of disgust.

"What?"

"You just really need a breath mint," Riddle covered slyly as he waved his hand in front of his nose.

"You are such a prat!"

"And you have bad breath," Tom taunted as though what she said hadn't reached his ears. Hermione grunted furiously and turned on her heel before stomping out to the balcony. Once out there, she stared up at the stars before huffing out her breath onto her palm and sniffing it to check.

'_My breath doesn't stink. I actually brushed my teeth before I went to bed_,' Hermione thought sulkily. '_Git_,' she added as an afterthought with even more anger.

Tom stood inside her room as he recalled his previous thoughts. He had thought her sexy. What was he thinking? This was the Mudblood, Granger. His arch-enemy's, Harry Potter's girlfriend, or at least The-Boy-Who-Lived's friend.

'_No_,' he thought suddenly '_She's not Potter's girlfriend. She's that red-haired Weasel's girl... No, not even that. He had left her for some other girl. I remember her blubbering about it to the diary... I really wish I could find that and get us- Wait! Get _me_ out of here!_' He turned to the balcony, but stopped as he heard something. There were soft sniffles coming from outside, and when he looked to Hermione's shadow upon the stone balcony floor, he watched her figure put a hand up to her face and make a gesture like wiping away a tear. '_Now what's she whining about?_'

"Granger?" Riddle walked out onto the balcony, his firm voice startling Hermione as she wiped her cheeks furiously and inhaled deeply.

"Wh-," she began, but her voice was shaky. "What?" This time her voice was a big stronger, but it couldn't hide the fact she had been crying.

"Are you crying?"

"No," Hermione spat.

"You are too," Tom shot back quickly. "Why?"

"I'm... oh, you wouldn't understand," Hermione sighed.

"Try me. I understand everything about people. That's why I'm superior," Tom administered snidely.

"Superior?" Hermione mumbled in disbelief as she rolled her eyes. "For the love of magic."

"So, what's bothering the Mudblood?" This seemed to strike a nerve with Hermione because she rounded on him angrily and started to stalk toward him like she had done in the bedroom, ranting once more.

"Have you ever thought that it's the fact I'm stuck in some estranged time with _you_ of all people and that I-," Hermione paused here as her voice caught in her throat. She lowered her voice and swallowed back hard. "That I _miss_ being home with my _friends_."

Tears spilled out over her cheeks and rushed forward to drip from her jawline and die upon her nightgown. Within seconds, her tears were flowing quickly and freely and so rapidly that they had soaked her garment. She shivered as a breeze caught her and made the hair one her arms and neck prickle and stand on end. She closed her eyes and crossed her arms, huddling up against the wind while praying for the tears to stop and for her to wake up in her bed at Hogwarts.

"I-," Tom didn't know what to say. No one had ever done this type of thing to him. "I, uh-"

"You don't need to say anything because I already know what you think," Hermione said softly. "_Stupid little Mudblood has useless feelings because all they do is make you weak_," Hermione mimicked Riddle's snide hiss the best she could before glowering at him.

He was kind of shocked. No one had ever done that to him either. And in fact, that's exactly what he would have said could he have spoke. This surprised him further that someone knew him so well as to read his very thoughts and moves.

"So, let's just save each other a lot of grief, and you get out of my room, and I'll go back to bed. Both parting without another word." These words were so final that Tom had no choice but to obey as Hermione stepped past him into the room and climbed back into bed.

She scowled out at him and waited for him to leave. He did so, giving her one last glance from the corner of his eye as he left.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning to the sound of trays clattering and people whispering. 

"Tom is that's yo-," Hermione began annoyedly as she rolled over and sat up, but she soon saw that it was her maids.

"Sorry to disturb you, milady," Mary began as she sat a tray on Hermione's lap. "It's just that you slept in late, and we had to get breakfast to you before it got cold."

"So we brought it up, that way you don't have to get out of bed if you don't like," Janessa added.

"Th-Thank you," Hermione said uncertainly.

She was about to take a drink of orange juice when someone came into the room with a jingling walk. It was Tom, and he was looking as though he were rather in a hurry.

"OH!"

"Get out!" Mary screamed as she rushed toward him.

"What?" Riddle hissed as the maids began pushing him out of the room.

"You can't be in the Princess's room!" Janessa scolded as they finally got him out into the hall and shut the door.

Hermione smiled slightly as she watched the two girls go back to setting up her wash bowl and picking out her clothes. They could really come in handy for when she got tired of the future Dark Lord. She shrugged and grabbed her toast, gratefully biting down into it as she felt today would be rather wonderful.


	8. A Trip to Town

**A.N:** I think you know what I'm about to say: _pottersgirl91, xxxCheezItxxx, nehimasgift, svelte, tofuubeaver, litprincess, san01, Hippy Chick21, Lizzy Evans, PapayaCrazy, hanvu, Silver Tears 11, _and _moonlights desire._ Thanks y'all for all your greatly apprecited, loved, and kind reviews.  
**

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Chapter 8 – A Trip to Town**

Hermione wandered through the castle, her hands behind her back, and a bored expression on her face. She was an hour removed from breakfast and wishing there was something to do. With no Lord Jonhalin there to teach lessons, she had nothing to occupy her time during the day. She rounded a corner and spotted Tom standing in the corridor, his wand out as he charmed a vase.

"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed as she rushed up to him. "Put your wand away... anyone could see you!"

"I was trying to make a Portkey to 1997," Tom informed heatedly. "Since _you're_ too important now to help."

"Oh, I'm not in the mood for this," Hermione groaned as she rolled her eyes and pulled him into an empty room. "Look," she began, but that's all she got to say.

"I suppose you're going to say that you have a better idea, and it's that we should wait this out until a better time?" Tom snapped. "Well, I'm fed up with your ideas, so now we're going to do things my way because I don't think you really want to even leave here!"

"Not want to leave here? And what exactly gives you that idea?" Hermione retaliated.

"Well, let's see," Riddle drawled heatedly, "you're a princess here, and you have a really easy life with maids and private lessons and a father who seems to want to spoil you rotten as apposed to your old life where the guy you loved didn't want you, and you were always worried about school and-"

"Shut up!" Hermione roared as she drew her hand back and smacked him across the face.

Tom stumbled backward a step or two from the force as Hermione winced and shook her hand which was throbbing with a stinging sensation. Riddle touched the throbbing spot on his cheek as his head pounded as a dizzy feeling set in.

"You're on your own now, Granger," he stated in a strangely calm voice, most likely out of shock.

"What d'you mean '_I'm on my own_'?" Hermione inquired as he left the room. "Tom!" Her shoulders slouched in self-disappointment as she sighed heavily. "Great," she mumbled to herself as she left the room.

* * *

"Princess?" Mary called as she entered Hermione's room. 

"I'm out here!" Hermione yelled back as she stood on the balcony fingering the lattice and its leafy vines.

"Janessa and I must go into the village to pick up some of your tailoring, if you should need anyth-"

"Did you say that you were going into the village?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes, ma'am," Mary replied.

"Would it be all right if I accompanied the both of you into town?" Hermione inquired.

"Well, your father - the King - said that if you were to leave the castle grounds, you were to have an escort of no less than four guards with you," Mary sighed.

"Oh," Hermione muttered as she recalled the King mentioning that when she was first brought to the castle.

"But that's all right," the maid perked. "He left the names of four guards for just such an occasion."

"Really?" Hermione asked happily.

"Mmhmm," Mary nodded. "I'll get fetch them now while you prepare to leave."

"Thank you," Hermione beamed as she turned, entered the room, and went straight to her vanity. She grabbed a rather large powder puff as Mary left the room, and Hermione was about to dab her face with the powder when she stopped. Realizing what she was about to do, she became aware that she wasn't acting like herself. '_Why am I suddenly primping? I never would have done this in my time_,' she thought in growing worry. '_Maybe Tom's right. I am getting too much into my temporary role here_.'

"No," she breathed as she looked up to the vanity mirror. "I'm just doing my part to seem like someone they think I am so I can safely get out of here."

With that assurance to herself, she dabbed her face with the powder, spritzed perfume about herself, and smoothed some ruffles and folds from her dress. Hermione turned and left the room and was halfway to the main hall when Janessa came rushing around the corner of a corridor.

"There you are, Princess," she greeted. "The carriage is waiting to take us to town... Come along."

Hermione followed the maid to the front doors of the castle and out into the bright afternoon sun. She boarded the carriage with Mary and Janessa, not paying attention to the guards standing behind the carriage. They rode into town, Hermione admiring the beautiful little town as they neared it.

It was exactly as Hermione had expected an eighteenth century village to look She watched white houses with brown wood work grow larger, their brown shingled roofs making the houses look so inviting to her. Buildings, businesses no doubt, were made of red, gray, and brown brick with heavy doors and large front windows seemed to nab villagers as they passed by. Hermione felt excitement build as the carriage stopped, and Mary and Janessa got out ahead of her.

The Gryffindor stepped from the carriage with the help of the driver and was about to walk over to a little stand that sat on the sidewalk like so many others which lined the cobblestone street, but she stopped abruptly in alarm. Four young men had stepped up to surround her, one hanging a little out of the close range that the other three had formed.

"Um," Hermione uttered nervously as she looked to Mary and Janessa who were waiting for her to start walking.

Hermione looked at the two guards in front of her pointedly, and Janessa quickly picked up on the meaning.

"You're suffocating her! You're to guard her, not squish her!" the maid exclaimed as she pushed the guards out so that there was two feet of space between each of them and Hermione. But when Janessa came to the last guard, she pulled him closer as he was four feet away.

Hermione finally caught sight of who it was and frowned as Tom rolled his eyes and looked down the street. Obviously, he had the same idea she did, and that was to get to the alley they had first appeared in and search for any means of escape from this time period.

"Come along, Princess," Mary chimed as the group of seven started down the street.

Hermione was curious at first, glancing into every shop window she passed, but then she started to feel uncomfortable. Everyone's head turned, and eyes glued to her as she went on her way. She tried to keep in step with the guards so that they shielded her from the vision of the people a bit, but their step was much too stern and robotic for her.

"Hold your head a little higher and just stare at the shop carts and products," the guard behind her on the left instructed kindly. "They won't notice how you notice them noticing you then," he laughed.

Hermione smiled and looked over her shoulder at him, her chocolate eyes locking on sapphire blue eyes. Hermione felt her head loop in excitement and her heart flutter strangely. She blushed at her actions when he smirked in amusement and winked at her. She bit down on her lip to try and stop the grin that was spreading on her face, but she couldn't stop it.

One thing she wished a second later that she had stopped was her flirting so she could have paid attention enough to walk properly because she ran into the shoulders of the two guards in front of her.

"Whoa!" laughed the sapphire eyed guard as he stepped forward and caught her when she stumbled backward. "Careful."

"Sorry," Hermione flushed as she stood up straight and looked herself over.

He stared at her in an unashamed manner that made her extremely nervous. She swallowed and looked to her left and then her right, spotting a stand with pearls hanging on its canopy.

"Oh!" Hermione sounded breathlessly. "Pearls."

She was about to walk across the street when the guards did an about face toward the stand. Tom was a little behind, but he caught on nonetheless while mumbling something about it being stupid to protect her like this. She bowed her head a bit and began walking, stopping in front of the stand and admiring the jewelry upon it.

"Good day your highness," greeted a rather thin man with a little, thin curling mustache.

"Hello," Hermione acknowledged as she glanced along the stand.

"See something you like? A nice set of pearls maybe? Or perhaps a new broach? A diamond choker possibly?" the salesman offered, pointing to each piece which either sparkled or gleamed beautifully in the afternoon sun. "Or maybe you like this special piece I have just for you," he added as he pulled something out of the stand's cupboards.

He sat a tiara upon the stand, and Hermione fought off the urge to grimace. She hated tiaras. She had felt like a fool every time those people up in the castle had made her wear one. Tom had even taken enjoyment in telling her she looked just as she felt a couple of times.

"I don't think," Hermione declined as she shook her head some and held her hand up to the piece.

He shrugged and put it back below, his demeanor becoming a bit snooty as Hermione continued to examine the things upon his cart. She picked up the diamond choker and turned it over and over in her hands before someone spoke up. It was the guard who had been trying to start conversation with her all morning.

"I think the earrings would better suit you," he whispered as he leaned over, his breath tickling her neck and ear.

She leaned away slightly and smiled, a tinge coming to her cheeks again that afternoon because of this boy. Riddle stood behind them looking utterly disgusted while crossing his arms and looking up and down the street.

'_Where's that ruddy alley?_' he pondered while taking in a careful observation of the street. '_Anderson & Allies was the building across the street from it... now where's that?_'

"You need to increase your distance from the Princess," the sapphire eyed boy declared, snapping Tom from his street sweep.

He turned to see the three other guards standing in front of Hermione as though they were a shield, and three rather large guys who looked to be in their early twenty's standing before them grinning. Each of the guards, except for Tom, had their hands on their sword hilts, and Hermione was standing behind them looking alarmed and a little pale.

"Oh, c'mon little red coat," laughed the biggest of the three guys. "We're just looking to have a little chat with the Princess. See if we can't get her to sneak out in the night to runaway with us," he chuckled cruelly.

Tom narrowed his eyes on the guy. Riddle hated guys like this. They made the male race look completely ignorant, and, at times, even primeval. '_Although this place is a bit primeval anyways_,' he thought in irony.

"I'll warn you one more time... _step back!_" ordered the sapphire eyed boy.

"Listen midget," the large, burly guy growled. "Just step aside and let me talk to the Princess."

That being said, the guy stepped forward and made a grab for Hermione through the guards, his fingers brushing her shoulder and making her jump. It was then that Tom saw true fear in her eyes and noticed that she had only ever looked at him like that when they had first appeared in her dorm. '_No one strikes up more fear in people than I_,' Tom thought haughtily as he watched the blue eyed guard get into the man's face, or rather, his chest.

"I am obliged to defend the honor of the Princess!" he exclaimed. "Give him a sword!"

One of the other guards handed the man a sword, and a circle was quickly cleared in the middle of the street as people rushed to get away from the duel.

"I'll enjoy kissing the Princess after I've gotten rid of you, junior," the burly man taunted.

"Only in your eternal dreams after death," the guard challenged back.

'_Idiot!_' Tom thought as the brawny man lunged his sword at the guard. Hermione gasped, and Riddle huffed as he looked annoyedly toward the sky. Then there was an anguished groan that caused his eyes to snap over to the duel. The guard was kneeling on the ground, his arm across his abdomen, and his sword laying under the large man's foot.

'_This has gone on long enough_,' Tom mentally droned as he watched the man turn to the two remaining guards while his friends cheered him on. The guards cowered slightly, yet held their places, chins stuck out and hands on their sword hilts. '_Weaklings!_' Tom spat in his mind as he drew his sword and stepped up to the man.

"What's this? Another challenge?" he chortled.

"Not a challenge. Your demise," Tom stated coolly and confidently.

"A bit cocky, aren't you, boy?"

'_Why does everyone insist on calling me boy?_' Tom wondered angrily. '_Do I look like a boy to them? I'm a man!_' Tom then flicked his sword and cut the hand of the buffoon that was holding the sword. A flame rose in the guy's eyes, and he grit his teeth as he lunged out at the future Dark Lord.

Swords clattered and clashed, and yet, surprisingly, Riddle remained on an equal level of fight. He had never done this before, so it was quite a feat. '_I am equal to no one_' he thought heatedly with one swift swish of his metal blade. The man's shirt sleeve ripped open, but no flesh was harmed as he glanced at the shirt and snorted in amusement.

"That the best you've got, boy?" the burly monster scoffed.

"No," Tom growled as he jabbed his sword at the exposed flesh and watched it enter the guy's shoulder.

Riddle withdrew quickly as his opponent crumpled to his knees, clutching his shoulder which was now gushing blood. The youthful Voldemort smirked as Hermione broke past the other two startled guards and began running in his direction. He sheathed his sword and was ready to hold his head high as she thanked him immensely and told him how great he was, but she didn't do that. Instead, she rushed right past him and over to the blue eyed guard who was now laying upon the cobblestones.

Tom glared and grit his teeth as he watched her cradle the boy's head in her delicate hands as she made over him. '_Pathetic!_' Riddle hissed in his mind as he narrowed his eyes on the boy who was now being picked up by the two other guards. Hermione stood and watched them carry him to the carriage as her two maids rushed over to her and checked her up and down.

The two maids looked to the green Dark Lord who stalked over, stopping only for a second to shoot daggers at Hermione out of the corner of his eye before continuing on then toward the carriage, leaving the pretend princess and her maids to follow.

* * *

Later that night after dinner, Hermione sat on the balcony of her room. She had already been down to see the injured guard, whose name she learned was Porthos Richelieu. '_French name_,' she noted to herself. '_Although he doesn't seem very French... maybe it was being brought up around here_,' she concluded.

She was about to get up and go wash up for bed when she heard gravel crunching and bushes rustling below her balcony. She looked down and saw a dark head of hair headed in the direction of her room. She knew at once that it was Tom by the sulky, brooding walk and the angered movements as he ripped roses off the bushes and pulled the petals from them.

"Tom!" she hissed.

He stopped and looked around as she called quietly to him again. He finally looked up and saw her leaning over the balcony. He smirked and threw the rose in his hand on the ground, squishing it out with a quick turn of his toe in the gravel.

"Juliet you're not. You're far too ugly and far too stuck on yourself. I wouldn't be your Romeo if my life depended on it... So rotten day to you, and I'll be leaving now," Riddle called in a somewhat hushed voice so only she could hear.

He started to walk away again when she spoke up once more.

"Come up here. I need to talk to you," Hermione growled.

"What for?" he droned in irritation.

"Please, Tom," she begged.

"Very well," Tom mumbled before walking over and carefully climbing the lattice.

He then stood before her on the balcony, arms crossed and a cocky expression on his face as he waited for her to state her purpose.

"Well?" he urged when she said nothing.

"I'm desperate for your help now... I need to be able to get to somewhere where someone can help us without knowing we're from the future. So, I thought that we could go to Hogwarts of this day and see if anyone there-"

"Are you dense? I know how you depend on Dumbledore, and I'll be more than happy to inform you that he doesn't even exist yet. Dippet isn't at the school yet either," Voldemort's younger self popped off. "So who exactly would you expect to get help from there, then?"

"Oh, all right," Hermione sighed. "But what if we get to Diagon Alley? Surely we could find Nicholas Flamel. He is – or will be – a friend of Dumbledore's, and he's worked with time travel. Surely he could help!"

"Fat chance," Tom drawled boredly.

His lack of help and missing enthusiasm were really starting to get under Hermione's skin.

"Listen, Riddle," she snarled. "If you know so much, then why aren't you trying to help?"

"Because I've told you already. You're on your _own_!" he replied shortly.

"This is stupid!" she groaned urgently. "We need each-"

"No! That's where you're mistaken," Riddle fired as he took a step closer to her, her back now against the railing of the balcony. "I _don't_ need you or your help, you _foolish_ little lovesick girl."

"Lovesick?" Hermione repeated in disgust. "I am _not_ lovesick."

"Oh, and that's why you were flirting with that boy today. Why you made over him after _I_ defeated that man in town today."

"So this is what that's about?" Hermione asked in half astonished amusement. "You're jealous of him because I didn't rush to you and gush all over you about how noble and powerful that was of you."

"No!" Tom spat.

"I think it is!" she challenged. "You're jealous of him."

"No! I'm angry because you're making goo-goo eyes at some boy who thinks you're someone you're not while you should be worrying about getting out of here!" he roared.

"What was I supposed to do? That guy in town tried to grab me up, and Porthos just happened to be brave enough to stand up to him and defend me," Hermione retaliated.

"Correction!" Riddle hissed. "Defend someone he thinks you are."

"Fine! But either way, when Porthos got wounded, I couldn't very well walk past him and step on his pride – which is something I'm sure you would have liked to do very much," Hermione argued.

"Yeah, Granger, I would have _loved_ to walk all over that prissy boy's pride, and his face too for that matter," he assured her cockily.

"You're a real git!"

"Oh, am I? Okay, I'm a git," Tom mock laughed. "Need I remind you that I'm the git who saved your behind in town today after your _gallant_ _Porthos_ went down trying to fight that ogre?"

"You're just mad because Porthos tried to save me. You probably would have rathered that he left me to be carried off by those three idiots," Hermione accused.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed sarcastically. "That's why I defeated him."

"Certainly not for my honor you didn't. You did it for your own pride and ego," she added haughtily.

Tension was so thick in the air after that that neither of them dared move. They just stood there glaring at each other, eyes trying desperately to burn a hole in the other's face. They didn't know how long it was that they stood there, but it was the thought that entered Tom's mind that broke the stare. '_She's rather attractive when she's mad._'

He quickly looked away from her and walked toward the lattice as Hermione huffed and stamped her foot. She turned on her heel and stormed into her room as he descended to the gravel below.


	9. The Secret In the Tower

**A/N:** My apologies for the lateness, but here's Chapter 9. Oh! And thanks to: _svelte, Addicted2Love, san01, hanvu, nehimasgift, Silver Tears 11, MandaPandaAR, w1cked angel, xxxCheezItxxx, Kitty0617, litprincess, moonlights desire, CareBearErin, Joou Himeko Dah, pottersgirl91, Lizzy Evans, bigmamatree,_ and_ Shadows08._ Many thanks to all you lovely people; you're brilliant, you truly are!  
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Chapter 9 – The Secret In the Tower**

Hermione sat at breakfast the next day, her mood dreary, and her heart heavy. She felt very alone seeing as she wasn't talking to Tom, and she was homesick on top of it all. She even missed the King. '_At least he was nice and comforting_,' she thought miserably as she pushed her half eaten plate of food away from herself and got up. She walked out of the dining hall and began her self tour of the castle once more.

She had been in all the rooms upstairs, many of them just bedrooms or studies and the occasional bathroom. Now was her chance to explore the bottom floor. Then tomorrow, she would examine the towers to the castle. She wandered along, her fingers laced together in front of her. She sighed continually every few minutes as she peeked into room after room.

The dining hall. The King's mapping room. Another study. The kitchen. A sun room where she had been playing piano and violin. A room with many covered pieces of furniture and lots of dust.

Hermione stopped at the end of the corridor, leaning against the corner of the wall and feeling highly bored as she looked around. Then her eyes spotted a rather strange door. There was a rose border carved around the edges of it, and it was ajar. A bright, almost blinding light was coming from behind it.

She narrowed her eyes and walked over toward the door, stopping outside it with her hand on the handle which was shaped like a rose. She looked around to make sure no one was watching her, and she entered the room.

Her jaw immediately dropped as she felt her breath leave her. The sight before her was spectacular. She stepped fully into the room and took in everything around her. There was a large cage of screen that went from the high ceiling to the floor and inside were hundreds upon hundreds of butterflies of all shapes, sizes, and colors. On the floor of the cage, there was at least twenty different kinds of flowers and bushes covering the whole of it except a small path and a circular spot in the floor where a half oval bench sat.

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip as she glanced the cage over once more and saw a small rickety door fixed in the screen. She smiled and rushed forward, her inner child dying to get inside the cage. She opened the door and hurried inside, closing the screen entrance behind her quickly so as not to let any butterflies out.

She laughed quietly as wings of butterflies tickled her arms and brushed against her hair while they landed on her hands and the folds of her dress's skirt. She walked over and sat down on the bench, looking all around her with a glow in her eyes. Hermione sighed contentedly and dropped back into a laying position on the bench, staring at the ceiling and watching the hundreds of butterflies fly over her.

From the doorway, a pair of dark, nearly black eyes watched her. Their ebony-like orbs sparkled with wonder as they calculated the blissful Gryffindor.

"Psst!" someone whispered. "Aramis."

Tom didn't turn away from the crack in the door as the name was hissed, instead he watched on until a hand touched his shoulder. He spun around and pinned the person fast to the wall before realizing that it was only another one of the guards.

"Ease up, Aramis," the young man choked as he rubbed his neck where Riddle's forearm had been.

Tom glared at him for a second before turning back to the door and watching as Hermione cupped something in her hands, a picturesque smile upon her face. It made her features glow in a comely way that caused the juvenile Dark Lord confusion.

"Rather lovely, isn't she?" asked the young man as he stood peering over Riddle's shoulder.

Tom suddenly felt his confusion switch to an angered, almost jealous feeling.

"No," he grumbled.

"No?" the guard repeated in amused disbelief. "Of course, you would say that... I mean, it's easy for you to look away from her because of all the girls that chase after you."

Tom's brow knitted as he looked over his shoulder at the boy who shrugged and smirked in a knowing way.

"Girls chasing after me? I've had no such thing happen," Tom denied truthfully.

"Well, of course you wouldn't right now," the boy sighed. "Ladies in waiting and courtiers aren't allowed to speak to soldiers while they're on duty, but at parties... hard to find a girl who isn't looking in your direction and wishing to be on your arm."

"Like I'd give them the time of day," Riddle remarked snidely.

"So you do have your eye set on her?" the boy accused as he caught Tom looking at Hermione again.

"No," Riddle hissed as he stood up to his full height, which was about three inches taller than the boy. "I'm just doing my job and keeping an eye on her."

"Looked like both eyes to me," the guard laughed before walking away.

"Arrogant little buffoon," Tom growled as he turned back to the door to see Hermione release a butterfly from her cupped hands.

She laughed and spun around while watching it flutter up to the ceiling. '_I don't fancy her_,' Tom told himself as he turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder for one last glance at her. '_Then why can't you keep your eyes off her?_' a nasty little voice in the back of his mind quizzed. The young Voldemort rolled his eyes and grunted crossly as he assured himself once more that he didn't like her, but that only made the little voice chuckle.

"I don't," Riddle grumbled to himself as he flung open the doors of a study and trudged over to a table for some relaxation. He just needed to think so he could set his mind straight.

* * *

Later that day, Hermione was on her way up to her room to freshen up for dinner as she passed by the room where Porthos was being kept. She paused as she heard him grunting. She peered into the room and saw that he was trying to sit up in bed. Smiled inwardly, Hermione slowly pushed the door open the rest of the way as she stepped in the room. 

"Not trying to get out of bed, are you?" she inquired with a mischievous grin.

"No," he breathed slowly. "Not... at all." He had finally gotten into his upright seating and smiled at Hermione.

"So, how are you feeling today?" she asked as she pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down.

"Hmm... a little better," he replied in a joking manner.

There was a moment's pause as Hermione beamed broadly at him, and he stared unblinkingly at her. But a noise from outside made them both jump a little.

"You had better get out of here, your highness," he warned. "If your maids catch you in here, you'll be in a sore spot because they'll tell your father that you were in a room with a young man who's only in his undergarments."

"I'm not too worried," Hermione shrugged. "It's not as though I'm doing anything. I mean, with you sitting there all bandaged up," she added as she gestured to his shirtless body which was bandaged around the waist.

"I wasn't implying that you were the untrustworthy one," he corrected in a little more than a husky whisper.

Hermione felt a chill rush over her, and she swallowed as he stared at her, his sapphire orbs threatening to pierce right through her. Suddenly, Porthos jumped, his eyes darting to the doorway as a loud rapping sounded on it. Hermione shot out of her chair and turned to the door to see Tom standing there.

"Sorry," he chuckled darkly. "I was just looking for the Princess. Her maids said she came up missing."

"I'm not missing," Hermione replied through gritted teeth.

"Good to know," Riddle smirked annoyingly. "They're calling you down to dinner now though. Better hurry. Don't want your food to get cold now." Tom stood staring pointedly for a moment before Hermione came stalking toward him. She stopped just short of passing by him, her eyes blazing heatedly as he narrowed his own eyes and smirked maliciously. He turned and left, Hermione following him out closely, shutting the door behind her.

"Where are my maids?" she questioned.

"Oh... they didn't want you," Tom chortled cruelly before turning and walking away, his head held high and his hand resting cockily on his sword hilt.

"Prat," Hermione grumbled before turning and storming off to her room.

She waited there until her maids came up and got her for dinner. She entered the dining hall with its enormous table. Down at one end, on its own, was her plate and enough dishes of food to feed ten people.

Hermione sighed and sat down, picking up her napkin and folding it neatly into her lap as she looked at all the empty seats around her. She felt horribly alone, and she hated it. It ruined her appetite really. As she stared at the food in their dishes, she realized how little she had eaten over the past two days. She had only picked over her food, never eating a full meal, barely even a half of one really.

She began piling foods onto her plate and started to eat when she heard a door at the end of the hall open. She looked up and found her loss of appetite increasing as Tom made his way down toward her. She let her fork fall to her plate with a clatter as she grabbed her napkin from her lap, crumpled it, and slammed it down on the table as she stood.

"Sit back_down_," he ordered as he pushed forcefully down on her shoulder. She pursed her lips and was about to say something as he walked around her chair and leaned down beside her. "Shut up first off... don't even open your mouth. Just listen," Riddle directed. This only further boiled her blood, but she would thrash him later. For now, she would listen and see what was so aggravatingly important. "That windbag you are pretending is your father-"

"The King," Hermione hissed. Why could he show no respect for high ranked people who never really did anything to him but be nice?

"I told you to shut up," Tom snapped. "Well, he's coming back the morning after tomorrow, so if we are to make our grand escape to Diagon Alley, then I suggest we do it tonight."

"Oh, so my plan is good enough now, hmm?" she criticized.

"I believe that was _my_ plan."

"Poppycock!" Hermione roared. "It was _not_, you arrogant... self-centered... egotistical... pig!" With each word of insult, Hermione had rose a little further from her chair, and Riddle's expression had got angrier and angrier.

He was so fed up with her and her insults that he couldn't even stand to speak. He stood there scowling at her, which only flared up her rage in turn. She pushed back her chair and was about to walk away when he grabbed her arm and spun her around forcefully to face him.

"Get off!" Hermione bellowed.

"No you don't! You aren't walking away again. We're going to settle this," Tom snarled. "I'm sick of you insulting my superiority and then walking away because you have nothing more to say."

"Do you want to settle this? Then get your wand," she challenged as she pulled hers from inside her sleeve.

"I don't have time for your childish games," he hissed as he snatched her wand from her.

"Give that back!" Hermione demanded. "I don't trust you! Give it back!"

He held it above his head, and Hermione jumped for it, but to no avail. She glared and slammed her fist on his shoulder, but this did nothing to lower her wand into reach. She gritted her teeth and stamped down on his toe, but he just raised his brow as his boots apparently dulled the effect. She grunted in full rage now as she kicked his shin. He winced, but didn't lower his arm. This wasn't going to work. '_There has to be something_,' Hermione convinced herself as she stood in a stare-off with him. Then it came to her. Whenever Ron did this to her with her homework, she would tickle him.

Hermione smirked, and Riddle narrowed his eyes as she took a step closer to him. She looked carelessly to her left and then her right before poking him continually in the side. He doubled over, trying to stifle laughter, but it was no use. Hermione continued until he dropped her wand. She bent quickly to pick it up and then took off running out of the hall. He stood upright, his eyes full of fire as he took off after her. How dare she tickle him and make him look like a fool.

They raced through the castle, Hermione leading the way through corridors on the bottom floor before taking the chase upstairs. She ran through the second floor corridors laughing, though she wasn't sure why. She found this sort of fun, yet she knew if Tom caught her he would probably strangle her.

She dove for a door, wrenching it open and running up some stairs. She raced to the top, Riddle gaining on her the whole time as he took the stairs two at a time. She laughed harder at the sound of his gaining footsteps, but she stopped dead when she reached the top of the stairs. There in the tower was a person in an extremely tattered black robe. Their wrists were chained to the wall, and their face was obstructed from vision by the hood which was held in place with a shackle around their neck.

Hermione felt the color drain from her face with a chill as Tom stopped behind her and began to stare too. She turned her head slowly and looked at him in alarm, but he only stood there unemotional and unexpressive with his face unreadable. They stood still for what felt like an eternity before Riddle turned and started back down the stairs.

"Tom!" Hermione hissed so only she and he could hear. "We can't just leave this person here."

"This is none of our concern," he whispered. "We don't know why this person is even here."

"But... But there's... there's got to be something we could... we could do or-," Hermione stuttered hopelessly. "It just doesn't feel right to leave them here."

"What else are we supposed to do? This obviously wasn't meant for our eyes," Riddle pointed out.

"But-"

"But nothing, Granger... drop it," he ordered as he turned and continued down the stairs.

Hermione looked over her shoulder, her expression worried and sympathetic as she sighed and started down the stairs.

* * *

The next morning Hermione sat in bed chewing upon her thumb in thought. Her breakfast was sitting on the bed beside her, cold upon its tray. She just couldn't get the image of what she saw the night before out of her mind. It had interrupted her day so much that she and Tom dared not even be in each other's presence after that. 

She had no doubt that he probably slipped off in the night without her. '_Oh well... I'll find him later_,' she resolved as her thoughts returned to the person, or being, up in the tower. She had to do something about it, she just had to. Yet what would she do?

She knew nothing of the person up there, or even who put them there. Would the King? He seemed to kind and, well, bumbling to do that. Johnalin? Certainly not. He was too absorbed in perfection and himself to be capable of that. General Mardon, then? The man did seem to have a lot of power, but he was far too absorbed in his troops from what Hermione could see.

She sighed, turning her head to the open balcony door. Outside upon the stone banister were little sparrows, chirping and twittering the morning away. She snorted with slight laughter as one bird flapped its wings at another, knocking the second to the balcony floor.

Hermione grabbed the toast and began breaking it up into pieces, tossing it onto the balcony to feed the sparrows. They fought over it, two tugging at one large crumb as another tried to carry off a piece that was entirely too big for it to handle. That's when a thought occurred to Hermione. What about the person in the tower? Had they eaten?

'_Maybe this is my chance to talk to them_,' she thought as she bit down on her bottom lip and rushed over to the tray. She grabbed her wand from under her pillow and waved it at the food. It instantly heated up, and Hermione rushed over to her wardrobe.

She grabbed a dress, tossing it on after quickly removing her nightgown. She waved her wand, and a ribbon flew off the vanity, pulling her hair into its bow at the nape of her neck. She grabbed some shoes from the bottom of the wardrobe, slipping them onto her feet as she rushed across the room, tucking her wand up her sleeve as she went. Grabbing the tray and quickly walking to the door, she peeked out of it up and down the corridor before setting off to the tower. She was relieved to find the door still unlocked. Wedging the tray between her stomach and the wall, she grabbed the handle and slid inside, pulling the door shut with her foot.

Her eyes looked up the spiraling stairs. They had seemed longer last night, but as she stood at the bottom of them in the morning light, she could see where a window from the tower shown light on the stairwell. Taking a calming breath, Hermione ascended the stairs, pausing a moment as she peered around the bend at the shackled being.

Her sympathy was even greater in the morning light as she saw that the shadows of night were gone. The bright sunlight made the prisoner look less frightening because now Hermione could see that they were in a tattered, dirty brown remnant of what looked like it used to be a cassock of some sort, not a giant black shroud. The hood was still pulled up over their head and held in place with a shackle upon their neck just as it had the night before.

Hermione swallowed as she imagined the choking feeling of such unforgivable metal collar about your neck. She cringed at the thought and was about to turn around to go get Tom, but stopped when the prisoner spoke up. Hermione jumped, and silverware clattered to the floor from the tray.

"P-Plea-se," they croaked. "Don't... g-go-o."

Hermione felt her flesh chill under her fine garment, and her eyes filled with tears of affinity and fright. She wished desperately that Riddle was there with her, but nonetheless, she walked forward slowly.

"I won't hur-hurt you," the shackled being managed before a hacking cough. "I'm quite harml-less," they added hoarsely as they shook their hands and feet, the chains of their shackles clanking roughly against the cold, uncomfortable stone.

Hermione stared, unknowing of what to do or say. She looked down, her eyes coming to rest on the tray in her hands.

"Here... I brought you something to eat," she spoke softly as she knelt down beside them and sat the tray upon the ground. "Just let me get this hood off."

Hermione reached out shakily and pulled the hood, but it didn't move. She bit down on her lip nervously as she moved closer and tugged harder on the hood. It finally came up, and Hermione had to fight hard against the urge to gasp. It was a woman, her face dirty and weathered with a pale, sunken look.

"Princess-ess," the woman coughed as her eyes raised slowly to look at Hermione.

"Please, names later... you should eat now. You look as though you need it," Hermione advised as she grabbed a piece of toast and put it up to the woman's mouth.

The worn lady hesitated, gazing at the young Gryffindor who offered her food.

"Go ahead," Hermione urged as she gave a gentle, encouraging smile.

The lady leaned her head forward a bit, taking a small bite and chewing it feebly before swallowing it. She coughed in a scratchy sort of way that made Hermione worry.

"Here, take a drink," she offered as she grabbed a cup of hot tea and let the prisoner sip from it. "There... now let's just work on the rest of this food, and we'll talk after that. Is that all right?"

The lady nodded as Hermione got up, retrieving the dropped silverware and cleaning if off before sitting back down. Hermione began feeding her some eggs and ham, feeling a warmth radiate from her heart for the poor soul.


	10. Megalise Christian

**A/N:** Here it is, the story behind the woman in the tower, and a little understanding between Tom and Hermione, though more from Tom's side. But, I won't say anymore on the chapter; I'll give my many thanks to the following people and let you go: _PapayaCrazy, MandaPandaAR, tofuubeaver, xxxCheezItxxx, pottersgirl91, svelte, nehimasgift, litprincess, san01, Joou Himeko Dah, Silver Tears 11, hanvu, Kitty0617, Lizzy Evans, _and _Charming-Lynn._ I'm simply thrilled; 149 reviews and that's only from 9 chapters. Fantastic, thanks again all! Now, on with the show...  
**

* * *

Chapter 10 – Megalise Christian**

"Now, what is your name?" Hermione asked as she sat the empty cup of tea on the tray. The prisoner had finished her meal, and Hermione found that the food seemed to make her talking a bit easier.

"Megalise Christian," the woman answered. "But you, Princess, may call me Meg."

"Well, Meg," Hermione sighed as she shifted her weight from her kneeling position and moved to sit on the stone with her legs beside her, "why are you here?"

"General Mardon and three of his young troops arrested me one day in my home for the use of witchcraft."

"Witchcraft?" Hermione asked a little excitedly.

"Yes. They said it was unnatural and that I had been the cause of the bewitching of several animals which belonged to my neighbors," Meg replied quietly.

"But you didn't really-"

"Hurt the animals? No," Meg sighed as she twisted her right arm in the uncomfortable shackle. "I'd never hurt a soul. On the contrary. I was making a potion for my other neighbor's son. The poor child has small pox and Scarlett fever."

"And they thought you were making something to harm animals with," Hermione finished for her in a sad, muttering tone.

"They said that those animals came to the castle for food and if some were to reach you or the King-," Meg informed, cutting her sentence short as Hermione frowned in realization.

"I'm sorry," Hermione sighed. "I'll be sure to speak to the King – I mean – my father about this at once."

"Don't fret yourself over it, dear Princess," Megalise croaked, her voice becoming hoarse once more. With a cough, she continued, "I'm set for death in two more weeks. I'm to be taken out into the country and burned at the stake."

"But you didn't do anything wrong!" Hermione protested urgently. "It's not fair!"

"Nothing's fair," Megalise mumbled as she gazed unblinkingly into Hermione's eyes, "Miss Hermione Granger."

Hermione gasped as she heard her own name. Her real name.

"How-how do you-"

"How do I know?" Meg chuckled froggily. "I might look weak, but a witch is never completely without power... but you would know that, wouldn't you?"

"Please, don't tell anyone!" Hermione gushed in a little more than a whisper. There was a moment's pause as Meg nodded, and Hermione looked around in discomfort.

"Not to worry... I'll take your secret to my grave," Meg promised.

"So, you're a Legilimens?" Hermione inquired.

"Is that what you call it? I always just thought that it was mind reading," Meg laughed in a growling sort of way.

"Yes, mind reading," the Gryffindor girl answered. Then something occurred to her. This woman knew magic. Maybe she could help them get back to the future, to 1997. "Do you know anything about time travel?" she asked quickly, almost too fast for Meg to hear in the joyfulness that filled her and overflowed into her speech.

"A little, yes," Meg replied. "I once before transported myself five minutes prior to the time that I had been in."

"That's all?" the younger of the two frowned.

"Enthusiasm dies fast for you, doesn't it?" the older observed.

"It's hard not to let it die so easily," the teen explained. "I have no hope of getting back to my time, and I'm beginning to feel homesick."

"Don't give up just yet," Meg encouraged. "There's time."

"I don't know if I can trust time anymore," Hermione muttered. "Someone meddling with time and its properties is what got me here in the first place."

"I'll tell you what," Meg whispered. "I'll help you. Now, here's what you need to do."

Hermione leaned in a little, listening carefully as Meg gave her instructions. Hermione wished that Tom was there at that moment to share in the secret discovery and adventurous feeling with her. But then she wondered why she would wish such a thing. '_What's wrong with me? I've been wishing for his company all morning_,' Hermione thought. She shook the ponderings from her head and continued to listen to Meg, her anticipation for adventure getting to a high.

* * *

"There you are!" Tom sibilated as he saw Hermione in her room putting on a maid's outfit. 

"Ugh! Get out!" she shrieked as she rushed to cover herself as she was only in the corseted undergarment she wore beneath her dress. She had yet to get the skirt on.

"Hold your knickers on," he chuckled teasingly.

Hermione scowled and rolled her eyes at him as she waited for him to turn around. He walked over to her wardrobe and played with the handle of the door, pulling it open and watching her in the mirror. He turned around when she was done, looking her up and down as she rubbed dirt off her shoe bottoms.

"What _are_ you doing?" he asked as she began rubbing the dirt on her cheeks and forehead.

"None of your business!" she hissed as she grabbed a basket and tucked her wand inside it, covering the wooden stick with a cloth.

"I believe it is my business," Riddle said forcefully as he advanced on her, grabbing her by her elbow when he reached her. She glared up at him with eyes full of malice as she stood completely still and quiet.

"Well?" he prompted.

"I'm going into town if you must know," Hermione answered shortly.

"Why though?" Tom inquired as he loosened his grip.

"Instead of having me explain," Hermione sighed impatiently, "why not follow?"

"Because it's a stupid idea to follow someone who can't prove that they know what they're doing," Riddle replied in a stuck-up manner. "And besides, I follow no one."

"Fine!" she snapped before jerking her arm from his hand and storming out of the room.

'_I'm not going to follow her because she wants me to... I'm just going to go after her and make sure she doesn't get into trouble_,' Tom assured himself as he started out of the room after her. '_Why do I care though?_' He paused for a moment and thought about this, but deciding that he would pick over it later, he continued to rush to catch up with Hermione.

He finally caught her outside at the gates where two castle guards had stopped her. Riddle wondered if they had found out she was really the Princess, or rather Hermione who was pretending to be the Princess who was trying to act like a servant. '_This girl acts like far too many people_,' Tom mused as he stopped with the group.

"I'm merely going into town to pick up some things for dinner. The chef's request," Hermione muttered, trying not to sound like herself.

The guards exchanged weary glances and then shook their heads.

"We'll have to check with the chef to be certain," the guard stated importantly.

Tom gritted his teeth in aggravation. This was far too stupid in his opinion. The guards seemed to be in need of a little persuasion. Riddle bent his wrist, trying to tuck his long fingers up into his sleeve. His wand came sliding down into his palm, and he aimed it at the one guard while mumbling a spell.

"_Imperio_," Tom whispered.

'_Let her go. It'll be all right. Why bother yourself with the trouble of going into the castle in search of the chef just to ask what you already know?_' Tom thought as he tried to persuade the guard. Riddle could see the guards eyes sort of glass over as he nodded.

"You're free to go," he said stiffly.

"But-"

"Let her go," the first guard commanded the second who was confusedly protesting.

"Besides," Tom chimed up, making Hermione jumped and whip around to face him. "I'll escort her."

"Very well," the second guard agreed uncertainly. Riddle smirked, lifting his curse once they were down the drive of the castle and heading into town.

"I suppose I should thank you," Hermione grumbled as though it pained her to admit it. She usually wasn't a proud sort of person who couldn't admit when she was wrong or owed something to someone, but when it came to Tom, that was a different story.

"I suppose you do. So, to thank me," he gloated, "you can tell me where you're going."

"I'm going to a house just on the edge of town," she replied vaguely.

"Who's house? I know for certain you don't know anyone around here besides myself, and even that's only a limited acquaintance."

"Well, Riddle," she hissed, "I took the liberty of getting some help."

"Help?" Tom barked. "From who? Who did you tell?"

"I didn't _tell_ anyone," Hermione retaliated. She sighed and rolled her eyes before continuing as he shook his head at her in frustration. "Remember the person up in the tower?"

"You didn't!" Riddle groaned, knowing all too well that she did.

"Well, she happens to be a witch," Hermione informed.

"Granger, you ignorant wench," he growled. Hermione rounded on him quickly, face full of rage and shock.

"Wench? I'm sorry, Tom, but a wench I'm not!" she roared.

"Be quiet!" he ordered while looking at passing people who were staring at the two of them.

Hermione huffed and shook her head, turning and stalking off down the street. They came to the end of town, and she looked at the three lone houses. '_Not the one with a stable_,' she eliminated in her mind. '_Now was it on the right or left?_'

"Lost, are you?" Riddle interjected.

"No," she spat. "Just you never mind. I don't need your help."

"Oh, _now_ you don't need my help. Well, I've got news for you, Granger, you're not getting any further ahead of me in this getting back business, understand? Everything you know, I'll know," he stated arrogantly.

"Fine! Whatever," she relented with an angry sigh before walking up to a house and peering into the window. "This is it." She walked over to the door, pulling her wand from the basket and unlocking the door. "_A__lohomora!_"

The door clicked and creaked open slightly as Hermione looked to the two neighboring houses to make sure no one was watching as she and Tom slipped in. Once inside, Hermione shut the door and began looking around its dust and dirt covered book shelves for the books and things she was instructed to get.

"So, if you didn't tell her," Riddle spoke up, his voice hollow in the abandoned house. "Then how did she know?"

"She's a Legilimens," Hermione answered distractedly as she pulled a book from the shelf and put it in the basket under the cloth.

"And what makes you think she can help us?" he inquired as he opened a drawer and found a small bag of coins.

"She said she's transported herself through time to five minutes prior," Hermione sighed as she moved to the next bookcase.

"We want to go to the future, Granger, not five minutes ago," Tom reminded needlessly as he slipped the coin pouch onto his belt.

"I know that, genius," Hermione sibilated. "And put those back!"

Tom looked over his shoulder at her. Did this girl have eyes in the back of her head? He rolled his own eyes and shut the drawer, not listening to her.

"So, if you know that, then how do you suppose she'll help us?" Riddle quizzed as he fingered a crystal ball under a moth eaten cloth.

"I don't know!" Hermione snapped. "Having three heads is better than two, don't you think?"

"Not really, because I'm afraid you won't have a head long after this," he said cockily as though he could care less.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she snarled as she turned and glared at him with her hands on her hips.

"It _means_, stupid," Tom crabbed, "that as soon as she gets the chance, she's going to expose you to save her own neck."

"Oh... _ridiculous_," Hermione spoke hatefully. "She wouldn't do that!"

"And how do you know?" he demanded.

"I-," she began, but she really didn't have anything to say about it.

"You what?" he urged in an annoyingly cocky manner for he knew he had won.

"She just wouldn't," the Gryffindor sighed uncertainly so that she at least had the last word.

She turned back to the book shelf and continued her search for the objects on her mental list. She tucked the last thing in the basket and headed toward the door. Tom was already there, leaning against the wall beside the door as he waited. She opened it and stepped out into the afternoon light, not daring to look at him as she went. He sensed her dashed hopes and shattered confidence and suddenly felt to blame. What was this remorsefulness that he felt? He had never before felt something like this, and to be completely truthful, it bothered him. He didn't like it one bit.

Swallowing his pride, he walked up behind her and grabbed the basket, but she didn't release. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, but she still didn't return his look. Releasing his hold on the handle of the basket, she quickened her walking, putting herself four feet ahead of him all the way back up to the castle.

Once they were inside, Hermione went straight up to her room and shut the door behind her. Tom stood outside waiting for her to change back into her clothes from earlier that day. When she emerged, he looked over at her and felt his gaze stuck upon her features.

The afternoon sun was shining out into the corridor from her room, and as it did, it made a halo of light around her. Her hair lightened to a light blondish brown, and her eyes grew darker as her face was cast into a bit of shadow. He stared at her in an unblinking way that made her turn slowly to look behind her.

"What are you looking at?" she asked as she turned back to him when she saw no one behind herself.

"Noth-nothing," Riddle replied while shaking his head. "Let's get on," he added while nodding down the corridor.

Hermione turned, basket in her hand, and headed for the tower where Megalise was kept. Tom locked the tower door behind them, and they started up the stairs. When he reached the top, he stood back, not moving from the top stair. Hermione, on the other hand, walked over and knelt down next to Meg, uncovering the contents of the basket. Meg sighed and looked up at the younger witch, but as she did, she caught sight from the corner of her eye the figure standing on the landing of the stairs. She turned her head and looked at Riddle, her eyes growing wide with horror once she saw him.

"Get away!" she shouted, her voice faltering and becoming hoarse as she began kicking her legs. Meg pulled at the shackles around her hands, digging them into the skin on her wrists as she tired fruitlessly to free herself. She let out panicked sounds as her breathing picked up, Hermione looking wildly back and forth between Meg and Tom.

"Meg. Meg!" Hermione pleaded as she tried to calm her.

"No!" Megalise bellowed.

Riddle stood dumbfounded. He had never seen this woman before in his life and here she was freaking out at the sight of him. He wanted his image to inspire fear, but this was just plain strange.

Meg continued to lash about as Hermione stood up and backed away. The Gryffindor girl was unsure of just what to do. She turned to Tom, her eyes now wide with shock and panic as well.

"What did you do?" she quizzed fearfully.

"It's one of _them_!" Meg gasped, still trying to free herself and get as far away from the young Dark Lord as possible.

"One of who, Meg?" Hermione inquired as she stepped closer once again.

"Those _devils_!" the older witch replied breathlessly.

"No, no," the pretend Princess tried to reason. "Tom's with me... he's not really a soldier. He's a friend."

At those words, Tom turned his gaze to Hermione, yet she didn't notice. '_A friend?_' he thought. '_Me? A friend to her? But she's a-_' he almost thought Mudblood, but realized that would be the pot calling the cauldron black. His blood wasn't the purest either. '_She's just trying to get back like me_,' Tom finally concluded, so that supposedly made them some sort of odd companions. At this realization, his eyes flashed with a sparkle of sympathy and understanding for the first time in his life, even if only for a second.


	11. The King's Return

**A/N:** Y'all know the drill: _Kitty0617, xxxCheezItxxx, nehimasgift, Lizzy Evans, MandaPandaAR, Silver Tears 11, pottersgirl91, svelte, ellamalfoy8, litprincess, Charming-Lynn, san01, Joou Himeko Dah, _and _PhanPhic-adict._ Lovely, brilliant, fantastic people you all are!  
**

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Chapter 11 – The King's Return**

Hermione spent the next five minutes trying to calm Meg down, finally getting her to stop lashing about at least.

"Listen," the younger of the two witches sighed, a little breathless herself. "Tom will not hurt you."

"That's Aramis... one of the General's inside men," Megalise cried. "He's one of the four I told you helped the General arrest me!"

"No," Hermione soothed. "He's from the future as well. He's here with me."

The older witch said nothing, but simply looked at the young girl before her. Meg's face was still filled with doubt as she concentrated on Hermione's eyes. '_He's truly not Aramis, I promise_,' Hermione thought, hoping the Legilimens could read that. Meg then turned to Riddle, and Hermione jerked her head in a gesture for him to get closer. He sighed boredly and almost angrily as he stepped forward, crouching down so he sat on the toes of his boots.

"Look at her," the Gryffindor directed.

"So she can read my thoughts?" Tom scoffed incredulously. "I don't think so!"

"You're just afraid of what she might see," Hermione challenged. Her eyes bugged at little at what she had said. She hadn't even thought about that before she said it. The words just kind of jumped off her tongue.

The future Dark Lord gaped at her a second before cocking an eyebrow. Apparently, he was just as shocked as she was about what she had said. In the moment that he was staring at Hermione, Meg gazed at him in concentration. Riddle's head suddenly snapped toward her, and he screwed up in concentration.

"Fight all you like," the woman sighed. "I've already seen what's in there." He glowered at her, disliking her already. "He's an evil one, him," Meg advised Hermione. "You sure you should be friends with him?"

"I'm not afraid of him," the teen witch whispered to the older, though she knew Tom could hear it as she smirked at him for he rolled his eyes and snorted impatiently.

"Are we going to get this on with or what?" he rushed.

"Well, unless you plan on being my hands," Meg snapped back.

Riddle said nothing as he pulled out his wand and aimed it at the keyhole on the shackles. Hermione felt her stomach ball up a bit as she feared what he could do to her hands if he messed up. He narrowed his eyes on the shackles and soon they were falling to the floor. He pursed his lips somewhat and stepped back, tucking his wand back into his belt and under his military uniform jacket once more.

"So, what exactly is your plan here?" Hermione asked as Megalise began rummaging in the basket containing her things.

"Do you see this?" Meg asked as she held up a locket on a rather large gold chain.

"Yes," the teenaged girl replied.

"We're going to use the Time Turner concept of the necklace, but it won't work exactly like a Time Turner," Meg explained. "You can't go forward in time with those."

"Obviously," Tom grumbled. Meg shot him a rather scathing look as Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"If you know so much about it, then why aren't you down here helping?" the aged witch shot, coughing a bit after as her voice became hoarse.

"I'll tell you that I've done much more to send myself through time than _you_ have," Riddle hissed. Just as Meg was about to protest, Hermione cut in as a sudden thought hit her.

"That's right!"

"What?" the eldest of the three gasped. "You're agreeing with him?"

"Not really," Hermione apologized to Megalise. "But he has sent himself through time in a way. Tom... could we use the same concept as the diary preservation that you used?" He shrugged and smirked knowingly.

"The diary concept would call for something I don't think you have the heart to do," he stated simply.

"What do you... it's a Horcrux," Hermione finally muttered in realization. "I'm not killing _anyone_ so I can split my soul. No way... nothing doing!"

"Fine, Granger," the adolescent Voldemort shrugged. "Then we're going to have to meddle with the concept of time and make a Time Turner that will send us forward in time. Good luck with that." She glared at Tom before rolling her eyes and turning back to Meg.

"What do you think? Can we create some sort of ripple in time to get us back to the future?" Hermione questioned.

"It would take a lot of magic and quite a bit of research to be able to create that ripple. A lot of study on time and time travel... and a great deal of thinking and even more power to pinpoint the exact time," the woman informed. "I don't know if we have that much time to work on that."

"And there's a danger you didn't mention," Tom spoke up smartly. "There's the threat of time having a glitch, and the two of us getting thrown into another, totally different time where we could end up worse off than we are here." Hermione frowned, and her shoulders slumped. This was looking hopeless.

"Don't give up hope," Meg whispered. "There might be a way for us to get you back where you belong."

"It's going to be a sli-"

"Shh!" Riddle ordered urgently as he walked over to the tower window. "The King's back! Quick... we've got to get out of here."

"What about the books and stuff? Meg's shackles?" Hermione pointed out in a panicked way. He wasted no time in whipping out his wand and creating a cubby hole in the wall for the basket and its contents. "Hurry!" she gasped as she watched the King walking up to the castle front doors.

"Don't move," Tom ordered Meg as he waved the wand at her shackles. The iron bracelets few back up around her wrists and ankles, the largest of the five moving back up around her neck as she moved her hood back into place. "Those will come off because that's merely a charm to help them stick there, but don't jerk around too much while those idiots are up here or else you'll be found out," he informed as he and Hermione headed for the stairs.

"We'll be back later," the young girl called as her companion drug her down the stairs.

"C'mon... we haven't time for goodbyes," Riddle snapped.

They made it to the bottom and locked the door behind them, both now rushing along the corridor to the upstairs study. Hermione dropped down into a seat, opening a book in front of her as Tom stood at the door as though on guard. Footsteps could be heard on the stairs up to the second floor, booming voices accompanying them.

"Ah, there's my beautiful daughter!" the King bellowed happily as he entered the room.

The youthful Dark Lord snorted at this and rolled his eyes, earning a glare from Johnalin who had came into the room with the King.

"Father!" Hermione beamed as she stood from her chair and hugged the man. "I'm so happy that you're home."

"As am I, my dear. Come... let us go sit in the sun room, and you can tell me of all that I missed," the King said sweetly as he put an arm around Hermione's shoulder and guided her from the room.

* * *

Tom wandered around the castle while waiting for Hermione to finish her little pretend father-daughter moment. He rolled his eyes in boredom and sighed heavily. The castle was a complete bore to him. He started up the stairs and stopped on the first flight when he head two voices. 

"Well, make her!" a gruff, angered voice growled. It was General Mardon.

"How am I supposed to when that idiot Aramis keeps getting in my way?" snapped another male voice.

"Listen to me, Porthos," Mardon sibilated. "No son of mine will be put out of his rightful place on the throne by some pompous little snot like Aramis. I'll fix him... you take care of luring that stupid Princess in. The sooner you two marry, the sooner we can have the King kick the bucket and move you in."

Tom's eyes grew wide. Porthos was General Mardon's son? And they were going to kill the King? This was bad. Riddle strained his ears to listen some more as he heard them continue talking.

"Then we poison the little soon-to-be Queen," Porthos laughed, "and I have free reign of the country."

'_It just got a whole lot bloody worse_,' Tom thought in shock. They were going to kill not only the King, but Hermione too. And what was General Mardon going to do to him, Tom, to 'fix him'? Riddle heard footsteps and panicked, he had to do something. He Apparated, probably not his best idea, but the quickest. He reappeared inside Hermione's room just as the door opened. Hermione gasped and stared at him for a moment before shutting the door quickly and scolding him.

"Are you out of your Merlin forsaken, bloody mind?" she hissed. "That could have been one of the maids! Then what would you have done? Hmm? What would you have done if they had saw you popping up into my room out of thin air?"

"Well, it wasn't them. It was you," Tom shrugged. "Besides, I had to get away from where I was quickly or else I was going to be in some very big trouble."

"Eavesdropping? Or were you watching the maids change?" Hermione questioned. Tom's expression became wild with scandalized furrows and disbelief.

"Oh, please," he scoffed.

"Don't think I haven't seen those other boys peeking into the maids' quarters," she stated matter-of-factly. "It's rather disgusting really... Boys."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "So what did you tell the King?"

"N-Nothing," Hermione replied a little uncertainly.

"Granger... you didn't tell him about that girl up in the tower, did you?" Tom snapped incredulously.

"Well... maybe," she muttered.

"Ah, Granger! You imbecile!" Riddle burst.

"Excuse me?" the Gryffindor snapped.

"You heard me. Now the King is going to have her head," Tom pointed out.

"No, he's not," Hermione stated coolly.

"What d'you mean '_he's not_'?" Riddle inquired as he mocked Hermione.

"Just that, he's not. He's going to order that she be set free. I told him that they were keeping her up there and not feeding her and that it was a complete crime to treat her so. I told him I found her and that I went to her neighbors and asked about her, to which the replied to me by saying that she was a good neighbor who wouldn't do any such thing," Hermione responded happily as though she thought the world of her deed.

"Yeah, and if Mardon's word goes up against yours?" Tom reminded.

"Now, who is the King going to believe?" she quizzed. "His darling, precious daughter, _me_? Or Mardon?"

"Whatever, Granger," Riddle mumbled. "So, what are we going to do now? I mean, if they move her back to her home, how are we going to get to her without you being seen?"

"Apparate, of course," Hermione replied as if it were the simplest answer.

"You can't Apparate back into the castle! You just yelled at me about that," he roared in outrage.

"My goodness, do you have mood swings or what?" Hermione intoned snappishly. "We'll Apparate there and walk back up here."

"Don't you think it would look just a little bit odd when you come walking up to the gate to be let in when you didn't go walking down to the gate to be let out?" Tom informed.

"And don't you realize that they change guards every three hours? I'll just simply tell them that the guards before them let me go," she shrugged off.

"Yeah, like that will work," he muttered haughtily.

"It will, you just watch... Now," she sighed contentedly, "if you'll excuse me, I've got to get ready for dinner with the King, and you should get out of here before anyone sees you."

"Yeah, yeah," Riddle grumbled, "go stuff your face, Princess."

"I will," Hermione laughed, deciding not to let his comment get to her.

With that, she pushed him out of the room and began to wash and ready herself for dinner. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, noticing that her face was a bit peaky. She frowned. This time period was really bringing about its toll on her. She prepared to fix that as she grabbed the powder, at least that was one good thing this time had. It had the basic make-up that she needed to cover up the horrid bags under her eyes and the pale look of her face.

She finished and left the room, going straight down to the dining hall where the King was already sat down to dinner with Johnalin. Hermione took her seat and looked at the large glazed pork in front of her. She went to reach for the large fork to put some on her plate when a butler of sorts stepped up and served her. '_No privacy and no way to do things on my own. I don't like this whole being waited on hand and foot thing_,' she thought sullenly. She began eating all the same though. The faster she got done, the faster she could go back up to her room and talk to Tom. '_Talk to Tom? Since when have I been so keen on being in his company?_' she pondered a little angrily as she stabbed her pork with her eating utensil.

"Something the matter, dear?" the King asked as he turned from his conversation with Johnalin to Hermione.

"No, nothing. I'm just not real hungry right now," Hermione admitted as she looked past the King and out the window where Riddle now stood, leaning against the wall and staring about with his arms crossed.

"If you don't eat, then you'll be ill," the King frowned. "Please try and eat?"

"For you," she mumbled as she took a nibble of the pork. It was rather salty, but she ate it nonetheless, wishing Tom was in there to talk to her as the King and Johnalin began conversing again.

Meanwhile, young Voldemort stood outside leaning against the wall while listening to two soldiers just around the corner.

"Yeah, Mardon said we're to move her tomorrow night."

"But why?" asked the second soldier.

"Said someone was nosing around and found her... so she needs moved," the first solider replied. "I guess the King confronted him about it."

"Bet Mardon was furious about that," the second soldier chuckled.

"Oh, believe me, he's even moved up the witch's death penalty. She's to be gone in another four nights," the first soldier informed.

Tom's ears pricked, and his stomach felt like someone had iced it over. Megalise was going to be moved and executed executed much sooner than planned. This really put a damper on their work. He had to warn Hermione. He looked inside and saw that she was leaving the dining hall while Johnalin and the King were still in conversation. Johnalin, however, noticed Riddle peering in at the supposed Princess. The tutor frowned as the King continued to talk oblivious to what was going on, Tom began heading toward Hermione's balcony.


	12. Meg's Move

**A/N:** Many glorious, gracious, grand thank you's to the following for being such lovely, wonderful, amazing readers and reviewing: _Lizzy Evans, CareBearErin, MandaPandaAR, xxxCheezItxxx, Silver Tears 11, nehimasgift, litprincess, svelte, pottersgirl91, Joou Himeko Dah, san01, Swiss Snow Drowsy. . . ., _and _PhanPhic-adict._ Now I'm off to write some more of Chapter 13 before I leave Saturday so I can post on Sunday night. -winkety wink-  
**

* * *

Chapter 12 – Meg's Move**

Hermione entered her room to find Tom already there, stretched out on her bed, hands behind his head and ankles crossed.

"Just who do you think you are? Get your dirty boots off there," she grouched. "I've got to sleep there, ya know."

"I know... and I don't care," Tom shrugged, but sat up nonetheless. "Great news, brainy."

"What's that?" Hermione asked as she took a seat at her vanity, ignoring the prodding insult to her intelligence.

"Well, your little friend, Meg," Riddle drawled carelessly as he got up and walked over to where she was sitting. "Is going to be moved."

"Moved? What do you mean '_moved_'?" the Gryffindor questioned.

"Just what I said, Granger," he replied. "Your running and telling the King angered that General and now he's going to move Megalise before anyone else finds her."

"Oh well, we'll just find out where he's moving her," Hermione muttered, though she sounded uncertain.

"That's not the best of it," Tom added as he picked up her mirror and looked at his reflection.

"What else?" she asked in annoyance.

"Her death penalty," he answered vaguely.

"What about it?"

"It's been moved also."

"To when?" Hermione inquired frantically as she jumped up from her seat.

"Four days from now," Riddle responded as he laid down the mirror and turned to her.

"We've got to do something!" she gasped in panicked tones.

"Like what? You've already done enough by opening that fat trap of yours," he taunted.

"Listen you!" she growled as she grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and shook him so that they got closer. "I've had it with your smart as-"

"Princess!" Johnalin hissed as he opened the door to her room. "And Aramis D'Artagnan... I'm sure the King would love to know that one of his soldiers is in his young daughter's bedroom... without reason."

"Sod o-"

"Tom," Hermione sibilated under her breath so Johnalin couldn't hear.

She let go of Riddle and stepped away from him, her head bowed in pretend embarrassment. Tom puffed out his chest slightly and crossed the room, glaring directly into Johnalin's eyes before the man threw Hermione a disapproving look and left. He closed the door behind him, and Hermione immediately grabbed a cloak-like coat out of the wardrobe and headed for the tower where she knew it would be cold.

* * *

"Meg?" Hermione whispered as she entered the tower. 

"Hermione? Is that you?" Megalise muttered through her hood.

"Yeah," she answered as she pulled out her wand and removed the shackles. "How are you feeling?"

"As good as I'm going to get. But what's wrong with you? You sound... worried or something," the older of the two pointed out hoarsely as she stretched.

"It's nothing," Hermione lied as she shook her head. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to tell the woman before her what she had learned tonight. "Would you like anything?"

"A drink would be nice," Meg said as she got up and began feeling along the wall for the place where Tom had stashed her basket of things.

Hermione picked up one of the shackles and looked at it for a moment before shrugging and sighing. She looked up as she heard a soft hooting and saw a tiny owl sitting on one of the lower turrets of the castle. Getting up quietly, the Gryffindor aimed her wand at the bird.

"_Accio owl!_" she whispered quickly. The tiny owl zoomed toward her and tried his best to bite her as she held him and preformed another spell. "_Vera Verto!_" The owl slowly changed, its feathers and body going watery as it transformed into a goblet. "_Aguamenti._" Water sprouted from Hermione's wand tip and flowed into the glass which she in turn handed to Meg.

"Thanks," Megalise said as she sat down and took the cup, drinking gratefully. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong?" she asked as she noticed over the rim of the goblet that Hermione was watching her with saddened eyes.

"It's nothing really," the more youthful of the two witches muttered as she sat down next to her new friend.

"Why don't you tell her, Granger?" Riddle said softly from the shadows of the stairwell. Hermione yelped and jumped up, turning to face him as her heart beat rapidly. "You should lock the door," he advised as he walked to the center of the room.

"I-I uh-"

"Tell me what?" Meg asked, interrupting Hermione's babbling as she too stood up and looked suspiciously from one to the other and back again.

"That you're going to be removed from the castle tomorrow night," Tom replied casually as he walked over and stood at the window, staring down at the guards in different spots around the castle grounds.

"To where?" the eldest of those in the room asked as she looked to Hermione who shrugged and shook her head with an apologetic, guilty expression.

"Oh, and there's one more thing," Riddle added through the tense silence, his tone sounding as though he were enjoying this. "Your death penalty... it's been moved as well. You can thank your new little friend," he smirked as he nodded to Granger.

"I'm so sorry, Meg," Hermione gushed as her throat became constricted, and her eyes shone with tears. "I was trying to help and get the King to release you and-"

"I know," the older witch sighed in understanding as she sank back down to the floor. She hung her head and seemed to be thinking for a moment before she exhaled a deep breath heavily. "Then we've not got much time... we have to get things worked on now."

"A plan would probably be a nice thing to have," Tom reminded cockily as he turned away from the window. "Otherwise, it'll be just li-"

"Shh!" Hermione gasped. Her eyes were wide and fear was etched on every feature of her face. The shadows cast in the room's weird lighting made her look twice as panicked as they all realized someone was coming up the stairs to the tower. "I thought you locked the door!" Hermione's voice rustled fearfully.

"I thought that I did... Damn it," Riddle growled.

She began helping Meg get back into the shackles, the footsteps drawing closer as a voice with a rumbling tone grew louder. It was the General and someone else. '_Please let it be the King!_' Hermione prayed frantically as she stashed away Meg's things.

"Quick, Granger!" Tom ordered as he ran over to her and rapped her sharply on the head with his wand. She shivered as something ran down over her, and he pushed her up against the wall as light began to break into the room from the stairwell.

"Aramis!" General Mardon's stern voice snapped. Riddle whipped around and looked to the General with a straight, expressionless face. "What are you doing up here?" Mardon growled as his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Just...," Tom began, his brain flipping over and over for an idea. "Checking on the prisoner. I mean, if someone was sneaking around and found her, I'm just making sure they don't return here."

"And why should we believe you?" Porthos shot as the General's attention faltered to Meg who was chained as she originally was the night Tom and Hermione had first saw her.

"Why wouldn't you?" Riddle rebounded.

"Because. How do we know it wasn't you who told the King in the first place?" Porthos sneered.

"Why would I tell the King about something I was involved in doing?" Tom presented arrogantly.

Hermione, from where she stood Disillusioned against the wall, stared on in awe, trying her best not to move. Riddle was amazingly good at lying. How could someone be so silver-tongued and manipulatory? It baffled her how one could be so slick at speaking truthless things.

"You could just deny ever being involved... we all know how much the Princess likes you," Porthos hissed. "How do we know she wouldn't stick up for you?"

"Enough," the General ordered in calm tones. "Aramis is right. Keeping the witch here another night would mean risking her exposure once more. We should move her tonight."

Hermione gasped, Porthos eyes darting in her direction. She closed her eyes tight and held her breath as her mouth went dry, her stomach clenching.

"Fine," Tom agreed casually.

"Porthos. Aramis. Grab her when I unlock her bounds," Mardon commanded as he pulled a key from his belt and began unlocking the shackles. Porthos immediately seized Meg's right arm up near her shoulder, dragging her to her feet. Tom stood watching, hesitant to help.

"C'mon, Aramis!" the youthful blond snapped.

Riddle stepped forward and grabbed Meg's left arm, though his touch was a bit more gentle. He watched as she hung her head, her hair falling forward from under the hood. He swore in that moment that he saw something else fall from under the hood, something quick and sparkling. Almost like tears. Then Meg sniffled slightly as Porthos began dragging her to the stairs. She hesitated, leaning back toward Tom as she tried to pull herself away from Porthos, but he gave a mighty tug, and Megalise went stumbling forward. Hermione watched with a frown on her face and a tear in her eye as her friend's cloaked figure struggle down the stairs.

The light left the tower finally, and Hermione was left alone in darkness. She looked around for a second before retrieving Meg's basket of magical items and heading back to her room. She sat the basket in the bottom of her wardrobe and walked to the balcony, peeking outside at the front gate. There was the General, Porthos, Tom, and Meg. They were getting into a carriage as another two guards sat up front in the driver's seat.

Hermione watched the carriage leave before crossing the room to her bed. She sat down and sighed. Tomorrow she would ask Riddle where they took Megalise so that they could venture there.

* * *

Hermione rolled over in her bed, birds were chirping melodiously outside, and they were beginning to drive her insane. She jerked at the covers to pull them up over her head, but she found them pinned down and unmovable. She groaned and rolled over, but when she did, she rolled into something very solid. She huffed angrily and opened her eyes with an annoyed flutter. The instant they were open, her eyes landed on none other than Tom who was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring down at her. 

"Excuse me!" Hermione gasped scandalously. "Just what the bloody hell are you doing?" She noticed that he wasn't looking directly at her face, but instead, at her chest. She felt the sudden urge to slap him, but stopped as he began to speak.

"I'm sitting here trying to figure out how it is that you can be so stupid," he replied, his eyes still not moving from her chest.

She glared and sat up in the bed, Riddle's eyes moving and now hovering at her chin. She touched her chin, afraid there might be something like drool there, but when she brought up her hand, she noticed something else. It didn't look like her hand at all. Instead, it blended with her bed covers just as though she were part of them.

"What kind of idiot forgets to take the Disillusionment Charm off after they're done?" Riddle questioned incredulously as he pulled out his wand and rapped her on the head once more.

A warmth trickled down from the point where Tom's wand tip had hit her head. She looked down and saw that she was normal once more, but she had more pressing things to discuss.

"Where did they take her?" Hermione asked urgently.

"Th-"

"Princess?" called Mary from the other side of Hermione's door as she knocked.

"Quick! Hide!" she whispered to Tom who dropped onto the floor and slid under the bed. "Um... come in!" she called to Mary who opened the door and ushered in with a breakfast tray in hand. She was followed by Janessa who was carrying a bowl of water with a washrag draped over the side.

"Would you like us to pick out your dress for the day?" the maid asked as she sat the tray over Hermione's lap.

"Oh no," the Gryffindor declined while shaking her head.

"What about laundry. Anything you need taken to the basement for cleaning?" Janessa questioned as she headed toward Hermione's wardrobe.

Fearful that Janessa would open the wardrobe and see the basket of Meg's stuff sitting in the bottom, Hermione half yelled her answer in a panicked fashion.

"No!"

"Oh!" Janessa said with a little jump. "Okay. We'll uh... just be going, then."

"All right. Thank you," Hermione said as they softly shut her bedroom door. Sighing, she removed the tray from over her lap and placed it beside her in bed as she got up.

"Ouch!" Tom barked. "That's my hand you just stepped on!"

"Oh, sorry!" she breathed as she moved and stood beside the bed waiting for him to rise.

"I think you just broke my finger," he complained as he inched out from under the bed.

"Honestly! Stop whining, or I'll break more than that," Hermione scolded as she walked over to the vanity and sat down while Riddle began brushing dust from the front of his uniform. "So, where did they take her?" She turned around and saw him laying leisurely on the bed, grapes in hand and jaw moving. She watched him chew slowly and swallow the grape before prompting him again. "Well?"

"I'm getting to it. Jeesh," Tom huffed as he sat up on the bed. "Unlike you, I'm hungry. I don't get to eat but two meals a day, and that's around four in the morning and then again at eight o'clock in the evening."

"What's this got to do with Meg's new prison placement?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"You are heartless!" he scoffed as he gave her a foul look. She sighed and shrugged while mumbling something about a cauldron and a kettle being called black. "Like I was saying, unlike you, I don't get to sit on velvet pillows and stuff my face six times a day."

"I do not stuff my face six times a day," the Gryffindor snapped. "Now, shut up and tell me where they've taken her."

"Which is it: shut up or talk and tell you where they've taken that girl?" Riddle smirked.

"I'm growing tired of your childish remarks. Can we just get to the point here?" she inquired in a disapproving manner.

"Fine," he shrugged. "After we left the castle last night, we headed west of here. We rode for what felt like hours, passing through a forest and then past a little village like place with a front gate that had some kind of writing and a Muggle cross on it. The place looked like a little town completely devoted to Muggle religion."

"Yes? What else?"

"Well, we rode for another fifteen minutes at least after seeing that village until we finally came to a place that was nothing but a huge field filled with this wheat-like grass. There was a wooden sign hammered into the ground that said 'Meadow Rock'. We walked through there and to this one place in the field where there were large boulders. Once we were there, Mardon made us bend down and walk into this tiny cave opening. It slopes downhill a little at first and once you're inside – it's larger than it looks outside – but he's got her all tied and chained in there with a rock as a sort of door."

Hermione sat for a moment after hearing this and suddenly she stood as though struck with brilliance.

"Tom! That village you spoke about... was there a large, clay, reddish brown wall around it?" He nodded and popped another grape in his mouth as she continued. "And did you happen to see a tower on one of the buildings with a bell?" Again Riddle nodded and continued chewing as he eyed some bacon on the breakfast tray. "That's not a village! It's a university. Monks probably live there."

Hermione knew this from the many books she read. She had once read about a wizard who lived inside a university just such as the one Tom described, and the wizard emerged after eighteen years to be the best alchemist and arithmetician of the fourteenth century.

"Monks?" Riddle quizzed as he grabbed a piece of bacon and began snacking on it as well.

"They're like Muggle church people."

"Now, it's my turn to ask you the rude question. What's Muggle church people got to do with this?" he questioned as he finished the strip of bacon and picked up a piece of toast.

"That university. I could go there on a... a... study trip! And once I'm there, you and I will sneak out and go to visit Meg."

"You do realize that it's a fifteen minute ride from that village – or university – to Meadow Rock, right? Do you know how long of a walk that would be?" Tom pointed out, but Hermione shrugged as though she didn't care.

"What other choice do we have? We can't Apparate for fear of someone seeing us, and we can't have someone ride us out and drop us off in the middle of a field," she explained. "Now, hurry and leave so I can get dressed, and we can go."

Riddle got up slowly as Hermione walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out a dress, holding it up before herself as she looked in a mirror on the wardrobe door.

"Here," Tom said as he threw the remaining grapes at her. "Eat. You're getting disgustingly thin." With that, he walked out and climbed over the railing of the balcony as she looked sideways at herself in the mirror. She was a bit thinner, but she would worry about that later.

She quickly dress, neglecting to even properly slip her shoes on as she pulled her hair back while leaving the room. She rushed down the stairs and into the study where she heard the King talking with the General and Johnalin.

"Northern Dublin is rather safe, I think it would be a wise choice to visit there in a week or two," Johnalin spoke as Hermione walked across the room. The General was about to speak his agreement when he noticed her and cleared his throat, calling the King's attention from some rolls of parchment on the table.

"Ah, my dear, darling daughter," the King said fondly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning?"

"I was wondering if you could grant me permission to take a guard or two and go out to the university for a visit?" Hermione pleaded.

"To the university?" the King repeated.

"Excuse me, your grace," Johnalin interrupted. "I have to intervene and say that there will be no such trip because Anastasia's lessons continue today seeing as we just got back yesterday."

"Oh, Father, please?" Hermione begged. "I wish to go there and read."

"Well...," the King mumbled. "If she's going there in pursuit of knowledge, why not?"

"Really?" she asked happily.

"Certainly," the King nodded.

"Oh, thank you!" Hermione beamed as she gave the King a quick hug and dashed from the room to go get Meg's basket before leaving.


	13. The University

**A/N:** Ringraziarla a tutto il seguito: _Addicted2Love, nehimasgift, Lizzy Evans, san01, Jou Himeko Dah, GinnyGin, MandaPandaAR, PhanPhic-adict, Silver Tears 11, PapayaCrazy, litprincess, The Dead Addict. . ., svelte, Shadows08,_ and _xxxCheezItxxx. _Adesso sono via scrivere il capitolo quattordici, dunque piace e non dimentica di riesaminare! If anyone can tell me what language that is and what it says, they'll get a 600-700 word preview of the next chapter. -grin-  
**

* * *

Chapter 13 – The University**

Tom stood waiting at the door of the carriage for Hermione when trouble in the form of another young soldier appeared at his right.

"Been reduced to a door man, Aramis?" laughed Porthos as two other young soldiers followed him.

"Shouldn't you be at your stations around the castle?" Tom retaliated coolly and without care as he kept his eyes on the large front doors of the castle.

"I'll have you know I was just informed that the Princess is going somewhere, so I volunteered for more guard," the blond sneered cockily.

Riddle said nothing to this, his expression remained unchanged, and he kept his eyes ahead. This seemed to annoy Porthos more than an insult or comeback would, and of course, the future Dark Lord found great satisfaction in being the source of annoyance for someone he hated. Tom smirked and just as Porthos was about to say something more, Hermione came out the front doors.

"Ready?" she asked as she smiled at Riddle who opened the carriage door. She was readying herself to step up onto the step of the carriage when Porthos spoke to her.

"Your highness," he greeted with an inclining of his head.

"Oh, hello, Porthos," Hermione replied, earning him an inward scowl from Tom.

"If it obliges the Princess, I am here to escort you along on your trip?" Porthos offered with a small bow, his eyes never leaving her.

She blushed and bit down slightly on her bottom lip to keep from grinning too broadly. She was about to answer when Riddle's hand touched her left arm just above her elbow, making her look back to him with a little bit of a surprise.

"The Princess won't be needing your services today," he answered snidely for her. "I'm the only other guard besides the two driving that will be going." With that, Tom helped Hermione hurriedly up into the coach and climbed in after her, slamming the carriage door shut in the face of Porthos and his cronies. Riddle settled into his seat across from Hermione with a rather pleased half smile on his face. The reins snapped, and the metal fastening and rings of the leather straps began clinking as the horses pulled the carriage away from the castle.

Tom opened the back curtain and peeked out at Porthos who was standing there in the drive sulkily, glaring at the carriage. Feeling rather high and triumpant, Riddle pulled out his wand stuck it conspicuously out the window, aiming at bitter sapphire-eyed boy.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked when she looked up from the basket in her lap and saw her carriage companion had his wand out.

"Oh, nothing," Riddle answered as he got a good spot for aim. "_Conjectivitus! Densaugeo! Diffindo!_"

Hermione gasped and jumped across the carriage to his seat, grabbing his arm and pulling it into the window.

"Are you thick?" she barked, but only the two of them could hear as the clopping of the horses hooves, clinking and creaking of the reins, and the rattle of the carriage wheels drown her out to outside people.

Tom just laughed though as he looked back out the window and saw Porthos trying to cover his big buck teeth as he pointed to his eyes and tried to cover the big split in the back of his pants, all caused by Riddle who was in tears as he laughed.

"That wasn't funny," Hermione scolded as she slapped his chest. "Now how do we explain those colored sparks coming from the carriage? Hmm!"

"Re-Relax, Granger," he sighed as he concluded his laughing fit. "I think the task at hand here should be figuring out how to slip out of that university and down to that cave place in Meadow Rock."

"I suppose you're right," she relented a little reluctantly as she settled into the seat next to him. "So, how are we going to get out of there?"

"Well, I suspect those goons sitting out there," Tom began, motioning to the two drivers, "will be guarding the gate to the place."

"Right."

"So Apparating is out of the question," he supplied as he propped his feet up on the seat across from him. "Any other way out of that place?"

"Climbing the wall, but someone is bound to see us then," Hermione muttered. "What if we just Apparate inside the cave? No one would see us."

"We don't know that though. There's too much danger in Apparating."

"Well, there's no hope of Flooing or the Knight Bus," Hermione said defeatedly.

"The Knight Bus?" Riddle repeated.

"Never mind that right now," she shushed. "We need a way to lure those guards away from that gate."

"There's always the Imperius," he reminded.

"That's wrong to use on another person," she said quickly. "No."

"It's not as though we would be hurting them, Granger," he informed. "We would just be making it so they would let us go. Hell, we could even take the horses on the carriage if we got the guards to unhitch them from the carriage."

"I just don't like the idea of using an Unforgivable Curse on someone... It's not right to enter someone else's thoughts and command them," Hermione mumbled as she stared at her hands in her lap.

Nothing more was said as she noticed the end of the town drawing near. She kept staring out the window, her mind searching for another way to escape the university without cursing those two poor men who were driving the coach. Tom, on the other hand, seemed rather relaxed as he crossed his arms across his chest, his feet still propped up as he began to doze off.

* * *

"Tom!" Hermione whispered urgently as she shook him. He jumped slightly as though shocked and pulled out his wand, poking her in the eye in the process. "Ouch! Tom, you clod!" she hissed as she quickly put a hand over her eye which snapped shut as it began to water and sting. 

"S-Sorry," he yawned, though it sounded nothing near sincere.

"Sure you are," she growled sarcastically.

"Oh, here," Riddle grumbled. "Let me see." He moved closer on the seat and cupped her face in his hands, his thumb gently massaging her cheek below her eye. She pressed her lips together and took to keeping her mind on steadying breaths. He grinned somewhat as the blush crept into her cheeks while he felt the warmth of it on his hands. "Open your eye," he instructed kindly as he leaned forward a bit. They were now only inches apart, Hermione looking where he directed as he checked to see if the wand did any damage. Suddenly, the carriage door opened, and the guard faltered a bit in his speech.

"Your hi- Oh. I apologize, Princess. I'll wa-"

"No, no," Hermione said quickly. "It's not what it looks like. My eye, you see, and... oh, never mind."

She sighed, and Tom groaned. He knew now that rumors would be flying about worse than before about him and her. He climbed out, taking her hand and helping her down before leading her up to the door of the university.

"We're going to wait right here, Princess," the guard informed as he and the other uniformed man walked up and stood next to the doors. Hermione nodded and entered with Riddle, and right away, she was greeted by a monk in a brown robe who stood on the other side of the gate.

"Good day, Princess," he said with a nod.

Hermione smiled graciously and nodded to him before continuing to walk in with Tom, but the monk stopped him.

"I'm sorry, sir," the monk stated gravely, "but you'll have to wait outside. There are no weapons allowed inside the university walls."

"Aramis is my guard though," Hermione said quickly. "He must accompany me by orders of my father."

"He may follow you in, but he must leave his sword at the gates with the others outside," the balding man replied.

"Give the guards your sword, T- Aramis," she spoke softly. Riddle rolled his eyes and undid the buckle on the second belt around his waist that held his sword. He turned around and handed it to the guard outside before stepping past the monk to stand next to Hermione. The brown robed man nodded with a smile and then closed the gate as Hermione turned and took in the beauty of the place.

The buildings matched the red clay walls, brown tile roofs on each. In the center was the largest of the buildings. It was the size of half of the castle at least, and Hermione felt her insides squirm at the thought of what lay inside. The central building usually served as a church, and more importantly to her, a large library.

"All right, Grang- Hey!" Tom called as she began racing toward the immense building with its bell tower and heavy-looking wooden doors. "Gra-Princess!"

He started after her, but didn't catch up with her until they were past the church section of the building with its worn wooden pews and golden cross in a vast alcove at the front. He passed painted stain glass window after painted stain glass window, all depicting something biblical, until he came to the crisp silence of the library. The sound of chanting monks died away as the door closed behind him. Riddle glanced around and finally spotted her. She was standing in front of a row of books, a glazed look in her eyes as she ran her fingers along the spines of the dusty tomes.

"You know," Hermione said quietly, "we should look and see if they have anything on time travel."

"These are Muggles," Tom reminded needlessly.

"They still know about time travel," she shrugged as she continued along the book case. "Muggles have books by Merlin and Flamel. Even the Muggle equivalents of them knew things about time travel... such men as Da Vinci and Galileo."

No response came to her little speech though. She turned, and Riddle was gone.

"Tom?" Hermione said slowly as she began looking around.

Her eyes landed on him at once. Golden buttons upon his uniform shining in the sun as he stood on a flight of stairs, staring out a window, his uniform a stark contrast to the walls of the library. Hermione sighed and shook her head slightly, giving up to a lost cause. She continued her search through the rows of books, but only got more confused as she went.

"I just want to find something about time travel," she grumbled as she walked over to another book shelf. "I don't understand this method that they've got the books arranged in. Hogwarts never had anything like this. Nor did libraries from home."

"Granger, that is the dumbest thing I've heard you say since we've been here," Tom said as he looked back over his shoulder. "I would figure that a bookworm, one such as yourself, would be able to figure out this arrangement. We're not in 1997, this is 1797... think about it."

"And I'm the one getting too much into my role? Please," Hermione smarted. "I'm not from this time period, Sir Riddle-"

"Excuse me?" Tom snapped. He was disgusted with his momentary nickname, but she continued, ignoring his interruption.

"I have no real idea of how they format their readings," she finished.

"What about by time period? This is some place biblical, they usually go by dates in such a place," he pointed out.

"If you're going to be such a wise cracker, why don't _you_ get down here and search, then?" she hissed.

"Because it's _your_ idea – and a stupid one at that," he retaliated.

"Oh, whatever," Hermione grumbled as she whipped around and began studying the spines of the books once more. It only took her a few more moments to discover the placement method for the books. "They're done by date, yes, and then placed in order further afterwards by author," she stated excitedly as she began running down a row of books for the names of the author she wished to find.

"Fantastic, Granger," Riddle mumbled sarcastically as he sat down on the steps and watched her rush from one row to the next with a billowing flutter of her skirt.

"All right," she said as she came out of the last row with three books in her arms. "Are there any more book shelves upstairs?"

"How should I know?" he asked lazily as he leaned back on the stairs, his elbows resting on the step above that which he was sitting so as to prop him up.

"You were standing on the stairs up there, you could have at least looked up to the next floor. To say that you lived in an orphanage for the first eighteen – or however many – years of your life, you sure are a spoiled little sod," Hermione commented vehemently as she walked up the stairs past where he was sitting.

"_Don't_ go there, Granger," he growled as he sat up on the stairs and turned his torso to watch her ascend the rest of the stairs.

"Then don't be such an ignorant prat," she scolded as she stopped on the next flight up and looked over the railing at him.

"_Then don't be such an ignorant prat_," Tom mocked as he rolled his eyes. "Get over yourself."

"You first," she commented as she continued up the stairs and across the second floor of the library.

"You know, you're worse then a hag!" Tom bellowed.

"In case your ignorance still persists," Hermione hissed as she leaned over the railing of the second floor once more, "we're in a library, so keep your voice down."

Tom clicked his tongue in annoyance and sighed impatiently as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. As she turned to go back to searching, one of the books in her arms caught the railing and tumbled from her arms.

"Ouch!" Riddle groaned.

Hermione quickly looked back over the railing and saw him rubbing the top of his head as the book lay a few stairs down from where he sat. She pressed her lips together and bit down on them to keep from laughing, but the corners of her mouth still curved upward, and her shoulders shook with the silenced giggle while her eyes grew a tad bit brighter in amusement.

"That's not funny," he complained. "I think you did that on purpose."

"Oh, don't be so thick," she stated quickly. "If I had wanted to drop a book on your head, I would have dropped a whole shelf of them." Not a second after she said this, another book dropped, and Tom dodged to the left. He looked at the book on the stair beside him for a moment before glaring up at Hermione who smiled and shrugged.

"On purpose," he mumbled as he grabbed the two books off the stairs and went up to the second floor. "So, even if you do find books on time travel, what do you expect them to tell us? They're not going to have an exact formula on how to get back to 1997."

"I know that," she replied annoyedly. "But knowing more about time and how it works just might help us. I'm surprised you didn't think of that."

"Sorry, I'm not completely in favor of the whole Muggle research and methods process," the youthful Voldemort droned as he stood next to her while she stared at the top shelf, her eyes scanning the horridly dusty row.

She said nothing to this, instead, she began reaching for a book, but her fingers just barely touched the bottom tip of the spine. He watched her for a second before sighing inwardly and stepping forward. He stood up as tall as he could and grabbed the book, pulling it down and handing it to her. She was about to say thank you when Tom let go of the book before she had a firm grip upon it. It dropped from her hand and landed, hard corner first on her foot. She took a sharp breath and bit down on her bottom lip, her face instantly twisting into a grimace of pain as tears came to her eyes. She looked at him with pain written all over her face as she moaned in agony. He snorted with laughter and quickly turned his back to her as she grabbed one of the books in her arm, letting two others she had collected fall to the floor. She began beating Riddle over the back with the book, but he just laughed. She grew more angry over this and moved her blows upward until the book came in contact with his head.

"Bloody hell!" he yelled as he tried to shield his head. Hermione stopped instantly, the pain in her foot now distant as her heart crumbled a bit.

"Ron," Hermione spoke softly, instantly reminded of her friend by Riddle's outburst.

The tears that had been in her eyes from when the book fell upon her foot began to grow and fall. He turned slowly, almost cautiously to her and stared as she gave a great sniffle, letting the book in her hand fall to the floor atop the others as she turned and quickly left the row.

"Granger!" Tom called, but she was gone.

He followed and began looking down row after row until he came to the last and saw her sitting in a paled stain glass window. She was sitting on the window sill, her legs curled up beside her, and her face in her hands. Riddle stood staring for a moment at her small figure in the colored light that bathed her. Dust was visible in the yellow rays, and it swirled around her figure as she shook gently with silent sobs. He couldn't help but admit that she looked sort of like a broken angel. There was yellow stained light pouring through the window onto her head, and the only thing missing was her wings.

He approached steadily, reaching a hand out semi-shakily to her shoulder. He frowned and paused. What was he doing? Comforting her? He knew nothing about comforting someone. He had never comforted anyone, let alone a sobbing girl. He sighed inaudibly and shook his head. He had never been around someone like Hermione though either.

"Granger," he said softly as he put a hand on her shoulder.

She showed no signs of surprise. She didn't look up at him, in fact, she didn't move at all. Her shaking had subsided, and her face remained in her hands, no doubt covering her tear stained cheeks.

"Granger," he spoke again.

He felt awkward staring at her and wondered what he would do if she looked up at him. What was he to say if he had her attention? How was he supposed to look at her? He removed his hand from her shoulder and looked up at the window, and suddenly, through the lighter colors of green, yellow, and pale blue, he saw something that excited him.

"Granger!" he said again, grabbing her with both hands this time and shaking her.

She looked up, and he instantly pointed at the window. Her eyes traveled the path to the panes of glass, and she too saw it. A stable to which a monk was leading two horses.


	14. Pretend, Pretend

**A/N:** Welp, first off, the winners for the preview were: _Maeve18_ and _hippychick21_. The translation was: Adesso sono via scrivere il capitolo quattordici, dunque piace e non dimentica di riesaminare! Now I'm off to write chapter fourteen, hope you enjoy this one and don't forget to review. It's Italian and that's what it roughly translates to... if I were to give it word-for-word, it would sound rather funny. Many others were very brilliant and able to guess that it was Italian, I commend you all for that.

And now the usual thank you's for reviewing:_ hippychick21, ellamalfoy8, nehimasgift, Silver Tears 11, xxxCheezItxxx, pottersgirl91, BlackRoseOrchid, PhanPhic-adict, Maeve18, litprincess, intoxicating.jellybeans, svelte, Addicted2Love, Lizzy Evans, Joou Himeko Dah, san01, The Dead Addict. . ., _and _cokerpoker._ I can hardly believe I'm at 213 reviews! I didn't expect 200 even!  
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Chapter 14 – Pretend, Pretend**

Hermione and Tom were now racing across the grounds of the university, the Gryffindor girl in the lead as the future Dark Lord looked all around for anyone who might have spotted them. '_To say this is a university, it sure is an empty place_,' he thought as she stopped outside the stable while adjusting the shrunken books in her hand.

"I hate to take these away from the university," she frowned as he pulled her into the shadows of the stable while the monk emerged.

"You can't be serious, Granger," he grumbled as he peeked around the corner and watched the monk get farther away. "There are far more important things to worry about. Now, c'mon." He led her into the stables and down the aisle that was in the middle of the wooden building. They soon found the two horses, saddles removed, and stamping their feet as they shook their heads.

Hermione walked up to one of the creatures and began petting its white, brown-spotted fur, laughing as it snorted and rubbed its nose in her hand. The short hairs on the soft skin of its muzzle tickled her palm, and she smiled, her eyes meeting the steed's large, glittering brown ones.

"Look," Riddle directed in a little more than a whisper. She turned to him, and he nodded to a gate at the far end of the stable.

"But it's chained and locked," she pointed out with a frown.

Tom stared at her for a moment before sighing heavily and closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Are you _sure_ you're the smartest witch of your year at Hogwarts, because if you are, then there are some really thick headed people out there," Voldemort's youthful counterpart insulted.

Hermione said nothing as she was embarrassed by her own stupidity as he walked over and pulled out his wand. She kept watch as he unlocked the padlock and removed the chain, laying it aside as while cracking the door and looking out.

"Granger! Come look at this," Riddle ordered somewhat excitedly.

"What is it?" the curious Gryffindor asked as she walked over to where Tom was peeking out the door.

When she got close enough, he threw the door completely open, and she saw before her a field of tall, bright green grass that bent over under its own weight and from a light breeze that was sending it moving in waves. She stared in awe for a moment, her eyes roaming the view as they took in the field and a forest a short way off behind the university. She turned to Riddle and grinned like a child at Christmas.

They turned to head back to the horses, but spotted trouble. The monk was on his way back in, two buckets of water sloshing on either side of him.

"He's bound to see us," Hermione gasped quietly as Tom pulled the doors shut and moved her over in front of them to hide the missing chain and lock. He looked back quickly over his shoulder and saw that the monk was now in the stable and sitting the buckets down. Without really thinking, Tom turned to Hermione and bent slightly, pressing his lips to hers.

She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide in shock. This all seemed rather familiar to her, yet something was missing. There was not a stench of alcohol, no burning, putrid aroma to ruin it. '_Ruin it?_' she pondered. Was she even enjoying it?

Who the hell was she trying to kid? Of course she did. She closed her eyes and pushed back a bit, but just as she did, he pulled away and looked back over his shoulder. The monk seemed a little bewildered as to what to do at first, but then he smiled, gave a curt nod, and left quickly.

"C'mon," Riddle instructed as he turned and headed for a black horse, levitating a saddle and buckling it into place. "Granger?" Hermione didn't respond. "Granger!"

She jumped slightly. She still hadn't moved from where she had been standing when he kissed her. He sighed and walked over, throwing the doors open behind her and letting the breeze blow in on her and awaken her.

"We best get going," he informed as he led his horse out of the stall and watched Hermione struggle with getting the buckle done while keeping the saddle in place. "Here."

He came over quickly and helped her, checking the entrance before he led both horses from the stable and out the back door into the field.

"Um... Tom," Hermione muttered.

"What is it now, Granger?" he asked as he put his foot in the stirrup and grabbed the saddle to hoist himself upward.

"I need your help."

"With wh-," he began as he removed his foot and turned to look at her.

She was standing beside her horse, holding the hem of her dress up to her shins and looking nervously from the stirrup to Riddle as frown lines creased her forehead. He groaned, rolled his eyes, and sighed before walking over and pulling out his wand.

"What are yo-"

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" he drawled boredly as he gave a swish and flick of his wrist.

"Tom!" Hermione shrieked as she began floating up in the air and over to her horse. "This isn't the kind of help-"

"It got you up there, didn't it?" he interrupted as he handed her the reins once she was sitting securely in the saddle.

"I feel stupid," she complained.

"You look it," he taunted as he looked up at her, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand hovering over his eyes.

Her skirt was pulled up to her knees now so she could sit comfortably, and the puffy, white linen of the pants on her undergarments were showing. Tom heaved another sigh, putting his wand safely in his belt before putting his foot back in the stirrup and grabbing the saddle once more. He pulled himself upward while pushing down with the foot in the stirrup, but soon found himself sliding backward.

"What th- ough!" Riddle groaned as he landed, his saddle laying on top of his stomach.

Hermione giggled, but he glowered at her as he pushed the saddle off and fixed it once more. Double checking it, he mounted his horse perfectly that time, and took the reins in his hand as he set off after Hermione who was ten feet ahead of him and heading toward the woods.

"Where are you going?" he asked as he caught up, slowing his horse from its quick paced trot.

"We can follow the woods so that we aren't seen," Hermione replied as she gave him an exultant look.

Tom merely rolled his eyes, and they continued on their way toward the woods. They paralleled with it once they reached the first line of trees and went on riding. Ten minutes into the ride, and Hermione was becoming restless with the silence as something nagged at her mind. Why had he kissed her? The words slipped from her mouth before she knew it.

"Tom... back there in the stable, why did you... why did you kiss me?" she inquired. His eyes widened, and he quickly looked over at her.

"I-I was... I was just trying to get that monk to go away. I figured if he saw us kissing, then he would leave," Riddle replied with a hint of uncertainty. "Which – I'd like to add – he did."

"Yes, but we could have just as easily hid down behind the stall and waited for him to leave," she pointed out.

"Well... waited? We didn't have the time," he countered quickly.

"I'm sure five to ten minutes more wouldn't have hurt," she quipped.

He stared at her as she gazed at him with an expectant eye. He shook his head and then looked straight ahead of himself.

"It was the only option I saw at the time, and it worked well enough, so drop it. It's done and over, in the past. Now leave it there. Because believe me I enjoyed it about as much as you did," Tom hissed before snapping the reins in his hand. His horse picked up the pace, moving out head of Hermione's by four or five steps.

She sighed and bowed her head, her heart feeling as though it were breaking.

"But I did enjoy it... a lot," she mumbled to herself as she continued to let him lead the way.

* * *

"Meg?" Hermione called softly as she entered the cave, stooping as she walked until she reached the center and straightened up. Hermione could see a faint light moving slowly in a back and forth motion. She strained her eyes too see, but soon became distracted by something.

A stirring from the corner and then a loud rumbling issued by Tom as he levitated the large rock back in front of the cave opening. A fire burst to life, and she squinted around the new orange brightness to see him tucking his wand back up his sleeve.

"Nice to see you again," Megalise smiled to the younger witch as she stood from a corner where she had been sitting with a book. "_Nox!_" She put out her wand and slid it into a tattered pocket on her robe-like garment.

"We don't have time for niceties," Riddle stated as he sat down on a rock near the fire and gazed into the snapping embers.

Hermione said nothing to this, but Meg threw him a quick glare. '_Prat_,' she thought. '_I'd like to see him be locked up as I am and not try and have small talk with the only person who will listen._' Nonetheless, she pulled out a broken, tarnished pocket watch and two spell books.

"That reminds me," Hermione spoke up as she pulled her wand from her sleeve and pulled at the opposite sleeve.

Some books came tumbling down into her hand, and she took a seat on a rock across the fire from Tom. She began enlarging them and handing them to the older witch who looked curiously at each cover and spine.

"Angelus Silesius?" Meg read from the side of a dark green book.

"He's a philosopher and poet... he was actually a Squib, but he still studied magic, hoping to cure his inability to do magic," Hermione answered. "He had a theory about suspension of time by mental powers."

"Sort of like a Divination thing?" Meg inquired as she laid that book aside and picked up another.

"Divinations is a weak subject," the young Dark Lord muttered as he picked at the cuff of his sleeve.

"Then why would you care about a simple prophecy made by someone about your future self and Harry?" Hermione fired back. "I don't believe in Divinations either, but there is power in mental things such as nonverbal spells."

He stared at her, unimpressed by her. He watched the heat rising from the fire blur her image a bit, and he began to ponder over the short time they had been stuck in their current situation. How did he get from inside her room, inspiring fear in her as he threatened to kill her, to sitting in a cave with her and some stranger from 1797 while she gave him cheek?

'_You know how you got here... or at least have a vague idea_,' he told himself. '_But something isn't quite right. Being in this time is breaking you down... No! I, Lord Voldemort, am not breaking down among the weakness of Muggles and Mudbloods. I'm just... what is happening here?_' he continued to wonder as he stared at Hermione who had a book open, showing Meg something.

'_You're still the same person, you've just found something that's been missing along_,' a voice that sickened Tom whispered in his ear.

'_Nothing was missing from me... I am Voldemort. Complete and whole... The best._'

'_She was missing_,' the voice whispered again. '_Love was missing._'

"I don't love her," Riddle grumbled to himself.

"What?" Meg asked as she and Hermione looked up at him as he shifted and shook his head in a 'nothing' gesture.

'_Then why did you kiss her? She was right!_' the voice mocked him.

Tom huffed angrily and picked up the book for Angelus Silesius, flipping through it mindlessly, his eyes barely even skimming the pages.

"We could do what Merlin did here," Hermione said as she looked up from the book she was holding.

She pointed to a sentence on the page, and Meg studied it. The older woman nodded, and Tom tossed aside the book he had been looking at as he leaned forward, trying to see past the heat waves and flames of the fire.

"What?" he questioned.

Hermione handed him the book which had a rather elaborate picture of a woman sleeping on a stone table as a wizened wizard stood over her, his staff raised high in the air as he preformed a spell. Riddle studied the picture as Hermione continued to talk.

"The passage on that page says that Merlin cast a spell over King Arthur's granddaughter to make her sleep for five hundred years," she lectured. "Why couldn't we cast a spell of similar effect and just sleep out our time here until 1997? It's almost like the Muggle equivalent of cryogenic freezing."

"Cryo-what?" Meg quizzed.

"Cryoge-"

"There's two problems with that," Tom spoke up as he snapped the book shut, cutting the Gryffindor girl off. "One: this doesn't mention anything about how we would age. We could be two hundred eighteen years old by the time we wake, and I don't know about you, but that's stretching it for even a wizard whose average age is 150, if that. We're not Flamel here. We don't have the Sorcerer's Stone." Hermione and Meg just stared at him in obvious annoyance as he sighed and continued. "And two: We have no real way of controlling when we wake. Who's to say we would sleep for just two hundred years and not something like three hundred years, or like that Muggle's granddaughter with five hundred years. We'd be in quite a bit of trouble, then... maybe even more so than now."

"Fine," Hermione hissed quickly as she snatched the book back from him and laid it aside before picking up another. She sat flipping through the pages until she was over half way through and then she stopped. She began skimming a paragraph before shaking her head and laying that book aside as well. She picked up a third and was about to open the cover when an idea came to her. "What if we found a way to sort of postpone our aging process and just lived out the years."

"Like a Fountain of Youth thing?" Meg suggested.

"Yes!" the more youthful of the two nodded fervently.

"And where, pray tell, do you suggest we find this Fountain of Youth? Or how might we create one?" Riddle asked cockily.

Hermione stood suddenly, slamming the book to the floor as she yanked her wand from her sleeve and stormed toward the cave entrance.

"Hermione!" Megalise called as she too stood up.

There was a loud rumbling and a shedding of bright sunlight that told them that Hermione had moved the door-like boulder. Tom jumped up at this point and went out to see what she was doing. He exited the cave just in time to see Hermione standing on a rock to get a boost at mounting her horse.

"Where are you going?" he called as she settled herself into her saddle and took the reins in her hands.

"Away from you and your know-it-all attitude... That cave isn't big enough for me and your big head to be in at the same time, you self-assured megalomaniac!" Hermione roared before snapping the reins and taking off at a quick paced trot.

"Granger!" Riddle yelled at her back as she headed back toward the university.

"Very nice, Mr. Ego," Meg said stonily. "Why must you always insult her so?"

"Just shut your face and get back in the cave," he snarled as he rounded on her.

"You're certainly not my boss. If I were you, I'd be less worried about giving orders and be more worried about going after her and apologizing. She did nothing to you to deserve your attitude towards her."

"What would you know?" Tom sneered.

"A lot more than you think," she answered coolly as she stared him directly in the eye.

Riddle narrowed his eyes and stared straight back. He had no idea of what was really going on until he heard a soft, almost maniacal chuckle in the back of his mind. He quickly diverted his eyes to the ground as he saw a smirk spread on her face from the corner of his eye.

"So, that's why you give her attitude?" Meg taunted. "Well, let me tell you, being a pompous ass is not the way into a girl's heart."

His head shot upward, and he gaped at her as she cocked her brow and headed back into the cave.

"Prying into other's thoughts is wrong!" he bellowed at her.

"Well, well," she said in mock surprise as she poked her head back out of the cave. "Apparently she's teaching you quite a bit... not only how to love, but how to have a conscience as well."

"I don't love her!" Tom shouted.

"Lie all you like," Megalise shrugged with a slight laugh. "I know what I read in that tiny little mind of yours."

He clenched his fists as she disappeared into the cave again with a loud snicker. He felt his blood boiling and the heat rising fast in his face, but there was also heat somewhere else. He looked down at his wrist and saw bright, fire red sparks shooting from up his sleeve. He quickly broke open the cuff, the buttons flying off as he shook his arm. His wand fell to his feet, and he began surveying the burn, which looked rather like a cigarette burn and was just above his wrist. He shook his head and grunted in frustration before stooping to pick up his wand.

He reentered the cave and gathered their things before leaving, replacing the boulder and mounting his horse. Riddle rode back to the university, sneaking into the back stable door. He spied Hermione's horse and half expected to find her in the university library researching some more things about time travel while brooding in the silence. But the only occupants in the library were three monks who stared at him strangely when he came into the library calling for Hermione by her last name. He said nothing and left quickly, hoping to catch her getting into the carriage at the front gate, but she wasn't there either. The only sign that she had been there was the tracks of the carriage where it had made a large U-turn to head back to the castle.

Tom sighed heavily, partly for annoyance and frustration, but mostly for a feeling he usually didn't regard. Loneliness had been no stranger to him, but it had never plagued him as it did now while he started his walk back to the castle. He bowed his head and kicked at the dirt road, dust rising at his feet. Maybe Meg was right. In fact, he knew she was. Why else would he feel like this? This feeling of loneliness like never before. One that ate at his chest and flared to life a hopeless feeling of even more frustration. But this frustration wasn't with just anyone. Not Hermione. Not Meg. But himself. '_Maybe I do feel for her... Maybe? Maybe._'


	15. Tom to the Rescue

**A/N:** I'm SO sorry for the wait everyone. I went out of town unexpectedly on Thursday, and didn't get back until Sunday night. And I've been struck with writer's block ever since, oh, and poison ivy too. Stupid itchy stuff. But I promise to make it up next post, which will be on Friday. I'll be posting two chapters then! Oh, and thanks to: _Joou Himeko Dah, Silver Tears 11, MandaPandaAR, hippychick21, hanvu, litprincess, san01, nehimasgift, Lizzy Evans, svelte, ellamalfoy8,_ and_ pottersgirl91._  
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Chapter 15 – Tom to the Rescue**

By the time Tom got back to the castle, it was sundown, and he was highly irritable. Not only for having to walk so long in the sun and a rather uncomfortable uniform, but for being alone so long. Being alone as he was gave him time to beat up upon himself about his feelings for Hermione, a none too pleasant thing in his case.

"Just wait until I get my hands on her," he ranted as he stormed through the castle corridors on his way to her room, but when he got there, she wasn't there. "Granger," he grumbled as he turned and headed for the tower where they used to keep Meg. Still no sign of her. He continued to search, going from room to room.

The library. No. The sun room where the piano was kept. Johnalin, but no Hermione. Dining hall. Nope. Just some servants preparing for dinner in there. Riddle stood in the corridor, some parts of panic now hitting him. Where was she?

He hadn't seen her outside when he came in, that was for sure, and the carriage was back. He had seen them unhitching the horses and leading them to a stable, so she obviously arrived. Tom sighed and slumped against the wall, leaning his head back and cursing the suit he was wearing.

He had unbuttoned all the buttons, and it was currently hanging open, showing a slightly sweat soaked white undershirt. His hair was no longer neatly combed and perfectly in place, rather it was tasseled about, some dark strands in his eyes which had it looking slightly like Harry's would have. He stood there with his eyes closed, about to slide down the wall out of exhaustion when he heard something that made his ears perk.

He opened his eyes and stood up straight, straining his ears for the sound again. There. A small twittering noise, but definitely not from a bird. It was more like a laugh, and Riddle had a pretty good guess as to whose it was.

He walked to the center of the corridor and looked down the hallway on his right. As he did, his eyes passed over a door that was cracked. A rather unique door with some special carvings that no other had. Tom had seen this room before. He had seen Hermione in there in a large bird cage of sorts. He walked over to the intricate wooden barrier and leaned toward the crack, his ear perking even more when the sound became louder. It was Hermione, there was no doubt about that, but why was she giggling?

Her obvious happiness and lack of concern not only served to make Tom curious, but infuriated him a bit as well. Here she had been sitting in a comfortable little room while he walked home in the hot afternoon sun in a horribly itchy and stiff suit. '_I'll be lucky if I don't have blisters from these damn boots, but she's just in there enjoying herself!_' he complained to himself.

It wasn't that he expected her to come back to the castle and moan and cry about their little quarrel, but this was ridiculous in his eyes. '_She's had an ear-full coming and now she's going to get it... right here. Right now!_'

Tom threw open the door and stormed his way in, eyes set glaring at her, but he stopped abruptly. '_What the hell!_' Tom mentally screamed as he surveyed the scene before him.

There was Hermione inside the butterfly cage on the same bench she had been perched before. Her cheeks were twinged, and she was smiling broadly while picking at a bracelet on her wrist which was made from some kind of flower. She was giggling because, sitting next to her while whispering in her ear, was Tom's very anger point, Porthos. '_What in the name of Merlin is she playing at?_' Tom hissed to himself as he stood watching.

"Porthos! Stop!" she laughed as he began poking gently at her sides. "No! Stop!"

She threw her head back and laughed which made the youth-filled Voldemort's sneer grow. He had had enough. He cleared his throat loudly, but the pair didn't hear him. He began tapping his foot, his hands on his hip in a very Mrs. Weasley-ish gesture, but still no response from the now hysterical couple. Riddle cleared his throat again as he stopped tapping his foot and crossed his arms. Yet nothing happened. He stood staring hard at them until he watched them get up and make their way to the door as a loud chiming could be heard through the castle. It was six o'clock.

They started to make their way to the carved door, still not noticing anyone but themselves until they were a few feet from Tom. Hermione spotted his dirt covered boots and followed the path created by his legs, up to his waist and then his chest where his arms were crossed and finally to his displeased looking face.

"Oh!" Hermione mock gasped. "Aramis."

"Very _funny_," Riddle annunciated, his nostrils flaring.

"It is rather funny, isn't it?" she taunted knowingly.

"Not anymore," he grumbled.

"I agree," Porthos interrupted. "Once the initial first, humorous shock of your appearance wears off, it's rather disturbing and dis... pleasing? Disgusting? I should think a soldier would show more respect for his appearance... seeing as he's carrying a prestigious reputation on his shoulders of the whole company."

"No one asked you," Tom shot through gritted teeth.

"Nasty temper, this one," Porthos whispered to Hermione, though his whispering was ineffective as the future Dark Lord still heard.

Blood boiling, he began to rant at Hermione.

"How dare you pull a stunt like you did today! Did you really think it was funny to leave me walk all the way back to the castle from that university?"

Apparently she did because the more he said, the harder she bit down on her bottom lip to stop the smile. Porthos wasn't much help either as he covered his mouth with his hand and began snorting with laughter. Hermione began giggling as Riddle's expression went from rage to utter incredulous heat.

"I need a word with you," he said to her in a low, dangerous tone. "Alone," he shot at Porthos while giving him a disapproving glower.

"Very well," Hermione said, her gigglish tone disappearing.

"I'll be seeing you around then, dear Princess?" Porthos stated with an inquiring tone as he took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles.

He never gave her time to answer as he started to walk away, Tom throwing daggers with his eyes as he looked back over his shoulder at the blond soldier who was now at the door.

"Oh! Porthos! Won't you join my father and I for dinner tonight?" Hermione called as she spotted Tom's enraged look.

"I'd be delighted," the sapphire-eyed boy replied before walking out.

Riddle stormed over, slammed the door behind Porthos, and then rounded on Hermione.

"You _unimaginable_ little _wench_!" he insulted through gritted teeth as he stormed across the room toward her once more.

"Do you think I fear you?" she asked calmly with a look of vexation on her face as he towered slightly over her. "You're _sadly_ and most _horridly_ mistaken if you do."

"Any why, dear _Princess_, would that be?" he growled.

"Because you're nothing more than a ruddy, ignorant fool who needs me behind you to clean up messes."

"What messes?" Tom shot.

"The mess like you made today. I come back to the castle to find Porthos in a horrid panic because he can neither see nor speak correctly because his teeth had enlarged so much that he looked rather like a beaver with an overgrowth. His teeth were down to his knees!" The youthful Dark Lord chuckled cruelly at this as he crossed his arms, visibly proud of his evil little deed. "That's not funny! I had to hide in a closet in the room and wait for everyone to leave so I could reverse the spells. Do you know how stupid I looked because I came out of the closet and Porthos saw me?"

"No more stupid than you normally do," Riddle remarked snidely.

"You're insufferable!" she snapped.

"You've told me that before," he drawled in a bored tone.

"Ough! I _hate_ you, Tom Riddle, I absolutely _hate_ you!" Hermione stalked past him toward the door, but stopped as she grabbed the handle. "You're childish and ill-mannered and ridiculous and ignorant and... above all things, a sad, _sad_ excuse for a human being. Grow up," she spat as she looked back over her shoulder at him.

"Oh, a lot you would know! At least I'm not the one running around snogging some bloody ass who's planning my murder as well as that of my father's," Tom snarled.

Hermione said nothing to this. She angrily surveyed him for a moment before shaking her head and leaving, closing the door behind her. He grunted in absolute rage before heaving a great sigh. Something began tickling at his ear. He turned suddenly and saw a butterfly who had escaped the cage. Clenching his jaw, he grabbed it quickly, crushing it in his fist. He opened his hand and watched it fall to the stone floor, the tiny beauty's leg and wing twitching before its exact moment of death. Riddle sneered down at it before wiping the light, colored dusting off his palm from its wings. He then left the room, feeling some relief of anger.

* * *

"Where the hell are you going?" Tom hissed as he came around the castle and saw Hermione boarding a carriage. 

It was noon the next day, and he hadn't talked to her since before dinner last night because of her show with Porthos.

"I'm going back to the university," she replied snottily as she held her head high and refused to look at him.

"Not without me you're not," he commented.

"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "_You're_ not going this time."

"I am," someone spoke from beside the two.

Hermione turned and smiled at Porthos before getting into the carriage. The blond then threw Tom a snide look before climbing into the carriage as well and pulling the door closed on him. '_Two can play this game_,' Riddle thought haughtily as he watched the carriage pull away and saw Porthos and Hermione waving from the curtained window in the back. He shook his head in annoyance and headed for the garden of the castle. He looked all around, and was about to Apparate to the cave where Meg was staying when a soldier came around the corner. Tom stopped all efforts and groaned as he saw who it was.

It was the guard from when Tom had been watching Hermione in the butterfly room. The one he had called an arrogant little buffoon. Riddle had learned from some other guards that his name was Arthos. '_I'll never figure out what it is with the -thos ending on everyone's name around here. Utterly ridiculous_,' Tom thought to himself.

"Hey Aramis," greeted Arthos.

"Afternoon," he greeted back through gritted teeth. '_Be on your way now. Don't even stop!_'

"What are you doing here? The Princess left, didn't she?" Arthos asked.

"_Porthos_ is with her," Tom replied with disgust.

"Right 'ol jerk, he is," the other male acknowledged. "But I don't think you have to worry. Rumor through the ranks has it that she fancies you."

"Fancies me?" Riddle repeated. "I've heard no such thing."

"S'just what I heard," Arthos sighed. "And by the way... if I were you, I'd be going to that university because I don't trust Porthos alone with any girl. Got quite the reputation for breaking them."

Tom stiffened at those words. Would Granger be that stupid? '_Surely not... but if it comes to a power struggle, and she can't use her wand..._' he reasoned.

"Very well," he muttered before turning and getting ready to walk away.

"Uh, Aramis," the other soldier called in curiosity.

"What now?" Riddle asked in annoyance.

"The stable is this way. You weren't going to _walk_ there, were you?"

"Uh... certainly not. Just forgot where I was headed for a moment there," he covered quickly.

They turned and headed off around to the back of the castle where there was a large, stone building which served as the stable. Arthos and Tom entered and there were several horses. Riddle opened a stall where a chestnut-colored steed was munching oats. He grabbed a saddle off the stable wall, his arms pulling down from the weight of the thing. He groaned as he wished that Arthos would leave so he could just use magic to do this. He hoisted the saddle up, only getting it halfway up. He leaned it against the horse who snorted in annoyance as it continued to eat. Shoving the saddle, he pushed it up into place and almost over the horse.

"Here, let me help," Arthos chuckled as he held the saddle in place while Tom strapped it on. "I'll get the reins."

Riddle stood panting a little as the other soldier exited the stall and came back a few seconds later with the bit and reins. The future Dark Lord watched as Arthos lead the horse gently from the wooden compartment and out into the center aisle. Tom rolled his eyes as the other boy put the reins on with ease, the horse taking to him and his gentle ways quickly.

"There ya go," Arthos smiled before watching Riddle mount the horse. "Give Porthos hell."

Tom gave a small snort of laughter before snapping the reins. The horse stamped its hooves a moment before finally giving in to trotting out of the stable as Riddle snapped them again. He rode to the gate at a trot, into town, and then the horse broke into a gallop toward the university once the town was behind them. Tom didn't especially like the feel of riding a horse. It gave him an awkward and weird sensation. It was definitely much more different than riding a broom.

He finally arrived at the university and saw the carriage pulled off to the side of the road in front of the gate. He dismounted his horse and left it with the two guards that had been driving the carriage. He also left his weapons, though he left his wand concealed in his sleeve. Riddle began walking around the university, unsure of where Hermione might be, but then something struck him. '_She's probably bringing those books back_.' He instantly headed for the library, careful not to disturb the monks as he passed through the church area. He entered the library and heard voices coming from the depths of the dusty book shelves. He looked up at the ceiling. Whoever it was, their muffled talking was coming from upstairs.

Tom moved swiftly over to the steps, careful to make himself unknown to those already occupying the library's space. He made it up to the second floor unnoticed, and still saw no sign of Hermione or Porthos, but the noises were getting louder. Riddle was certain now that it was Hermione as he heard her giggle. He turned to his right and started to walk down the shelf ends, peering into each row to see if they were there. He didn't find them until he came to the last row of books. Porthos was laying some books on the table as Hermione glanced over the shelf.

"You know, Princess," Porthos began as he walked up to her, taking a gentle curl from her light brown hair into his hands, examining it as she stopped moving. "Your father seems quite taken with me... He proved that last night when he winked at you across the table when I offered to escort you to your room."

"My father doesn't know what's best for me," Hermione replied softly in a very serious manner.

Porthos said nothing to this as he took all of her hair in his hands, moving it aside and draping it over her right shoulder as he stepped closer. Hermione felt his breath on her neck as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. She turned around quickly to face him as he did, his eyes intent upon her. She backed up toward the bookcase, but he only mimicked her steps and left her with nowhere to go. She suddenly felt very nervous and helpless. She couldn't very well use her wand on him, what if he remembered and told them that she had used magic.

"Porthos, please," Hermione said as she turned her head to keep him from kissing her. His hands were at her hips, and she didn't like the way they held her. It was entirely too rough and directing. "Porthos," she spoke again as she closed her eyes tight and kept her head turned.

"I don't think she wants you to touch her like that," came the voice of Tom.

The blond-haired, blue-eyed soldier instantly let go of her and said nothing as she opened her eyes. She gasped as she took in the scene before her. Riddle had a sword pressed to Porthos' neck, pushing him away from Hermione with it.

"I'd lower your sword, Aramis... unless you want the General to whip you within an inch of your life," the cornered boy threatened.

"And I'm sure that would only happen after the King hangs you for touching his daughter and forcing yourself upon her," Tom growled. "I suggest you go down to the carriage, take that horse that is there, and head back to the castle... _now_!"

Tom jabbed the sword slightly, and Porthos winced as it was pulled away. There was a solitary line of deep red beginning to run down his neck, staining the collar of his uniform. Porthos walked past Riddle, glaring at him as he went. Once Tom made sure he left, he came back to Hermione, a look of arrogance on his face.

"You don't need to say it," she sighed as she leaned against a table, her head bowed.

"Say what?" he asked, though his arrogance was still in place.

"I told you so," she muttered. "I can't believe I was so stupid. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't of come."

There was silence for a moment or two before Hermione exhaled noisily and stood up straight. She grabbed two books from the table and was going to walk past Riddle when she stopped.

"Thanks by the way," she mumbled before reaching up quickly and brushing her lips across his cheek.

He could feel the heat from her face as she bowed her head once more and walked away quickly. Tom stood there for a moment, slightly shocked. It was then that he felt something almost like the frustration he had felt toward her for the past few days, yet this feeling was something better. It made him feel lighter, as though his feet would leave the ground and hover above the floor at any moment. A smile curled upward at one corner of his mouth before he turned and set off after her.


	16. Of Experiments & Aggravation

**A/N:** Me thankses me loverly reviewers rubs hands together Yes, big thankses to theseses: _hanvu, MandaPandaAR, Silver Tears 11, ellamalfoy8, nehimasgift, PhanPhic-adict, keeper of the heart, x The Life of a Cheez It x, tofuubeaver, svelte, litprincess, san01, Joou Himeko Dah, Shadows08, The Dead Addict. . ., Lizzy Evans, _and _pottersgirl91_. You terrific people, you! I love you... in a friendly sort of way, lol. I can hardly believe it. 244 reviews! does excited dance with a big grin Well, anyways, here's the first chapter of Friday's two chapter update! Enjoyses!  
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Chapter 16 – Of Experiments and Aggravation**

'_Now where's she gone to?_' Tom wondered as he looked around the university grounds. He had just left the library and was on the search for Hermione. He feared that she had went back to the carriage and that he would have another long walk back to the castle, but then he spotted her. She was on her way over to the stables, and she was moving fast. Riddle jogged and finally caught up with her, seeing that her face was still a bit red with embarrassment. He grinned, but kept all comments to himself as he spoke.

"So, find anything new?" he asked casually.

"No!" Hermione answered quickly. "I mean... yes."

"Which is it, Granger?" he laughed.

She bit down on her lip and took a deep breath. Why was she suddenly so nervous? Maybe it was because she had just dared to kiss Tom Riddle, even if it was just on his cheek. '_Please don't let him throw in my face later, please!_'

"Hello? Granger?" Tom stated firmly, bringing Hermione from her thoughts.

"Yes, I found a few new things. I'll tell you about them on the way there," she informed as they entered the stable and pulled out their wands.

They made quick work of saddling the horses and escaping out the back door of the stable. Once they were well away from the university, the only sounds around them being that of the horses chomping their bits and swishing grasses and breaking twigs under their hooves, Hermione began to explain things to Riddle.

"Remember the Squib Meg and I mentioned named Angelus Silesius?" she quizzed. He nodded. "Well, he had a theory..."

"Yes?" Tom urged.

"It was that the flow of time could be suspended by mental powers. See, there was a poem of sorts about it."

"And the poem was?" he prompted.

"Time is of your own making; its clock ticks in your head. The moment you stop thought, time too stops dead," Hermione recited.

"One problem, Granger," he sighed politely, "everyone is always thinking about _something_. Stopping thought would be like... well... stopping your brain. It's impossible; your brain is always working in some way or another, even while you sleep."

"True, but that's not all I have though," she assured him. "I thought about something else while I was reading last night. It's something I learned while attending Muggle school for children before going to Hogwarts."

"And that was?" he inquired as he ducked under a low hanging branch.

"See, there are Muggle theories as well that might help us. In fact, I believe I know what happened to send us back to this time."

"You do?" he asked quickly as he looked to her for the first time since they left the university.

"Yes. It's just a hypothesis though... yet this is what I think. There was a man named Albert Einstein, and he had a theory called relativity which suggested that the closer to the speed of light something comes, the slower times moves. Then, from there, once the object passes light speed, it would start to move backwards in time."

"And? Is this what time turners do or something?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but this has nothing to do with time turners... Yet there's a problem with this as well."

"What's that?" Riddle quizzed.

"It's said to be impossible to reach the speed of light, but that's only what Muggles think. I'm not utterly positive about wizards. See, when something reaches the speed of light, it becomes infinite; its mass is just continuing and larger than anything."

"So, what's all this got to do with us coming back here?"

"Well, even though the concept of it is far-fetched," Hermione shrugged, "I believe that the diary caused time to stop and go backwards because its mass became infinite when it was destroyed by the spells. Remember how everything stopped? Like the bird suspended in flight outside the window and everything? That's a symptom of Einstein's theory! The diary had to pass the speed of light, engulfing us in its mass, and went backwards; thus, sending us through time."

"Sounds about right," Tom agreed. "So what are we going to do now?"

"I figured if we could get something to do that once, we could speed something up to make it hit the speed of light again and open what is called a wormhole in Muggle science. Wormholes are said to be able to connect universes, or even two separate regions of the same universe."

"But you said yourself that light speed was near impossible to reach."

"We did it once already," she reminded.

"What if it sends us further back in time though?" he pointed out.

"It's a risk we'll have to take," she sighed.

They finally arrived at Meg's cave and found that she was already outside.

"How'd you get out?" Hermione quizzed.

"I can do magic, remember?" Megalise playfully answered. "So, anymore progress?"

"If by progress you mean things to try, then yes. A couple."

"Let's get started then," Meg said as she slid down off the rock she was sitting on and dusted her hands before pulling her wand from a patched up pocket.

"Okay," Hermione huffed as she pushed her hair from her face and pulled out her wand as well. "We'll need a large rock – probably the one used as the cave door – and... um... hmm... Tom! Can you bring me a branch off that dead tree over there?"

Riddle gave her a curious look, but complied. He levitated the branch over and watched as she transfigured it into a metal rod about five feet in length. She then had him hold it upright with one end on the ground as she turned to the rock.

"_Wingardium leviosa!_" she cast, lifting the rock into the air.

She began levitating it over toward the pole, and Tom's eyes became round. He dropped the pole and backed away.

"Tom!" Hermione said as her concentration broke and caused the rock to hit the ground with tremendous force.

"I wasn't going to stand there while you levitated a rock that size over my head!" he retaliated.

Hermione sighed. She had no real argument there.

"Very well... use magic to hold it up then," she instructed as she struggled to lift the rock again.

It took her a moment or two, but she finally got it. With the pole now upright once more, Hermione used the rock to hammer it into the ground, almost pushing it too far.

"And what's the purpose of this?" Riddle asked as she sat the rock down gently as she could, though it still shook the ground.

"We need to make a merry-go-round of sorts," she answered vaguely, which only served to further puzzle him.

"A merry-go-round?"

"Yep," she said as she transfigured the rock into a large metal base to sit on top of the pole.

She levitated this onto the pole, and Meg cast a Sticking Charm so that the base would stay balanced on the pole from the center.

"Wonderful," Hermione beamed as she pushed back her dress sleeves. "Now, Meg, I'll need you to help me accelerate this in a clockwise motion. We need to get it going as fast as possible." Megalise nodded, and Hermione turned to Riddle and continued to instruct. "You'll be monitoring the speed with this," she said as she grabbed a patch of grass and transfigured it into a strange looking laser gun.

"How?" Tom asked as he looked the weird tool over.

"By pulling that trigger. The speed will flash on the screen. When it lits up green, we've hit close to the speed of light," Hermione stated simply, though in the back of her mind, she felt that this was going to flop. Yet it was worth a try. "Ready?"

Meg nodded, and she and Hermione pointed their wands at the makeshift merry-go-round. It began to spin, slowly at first as though there were a child pushing it. Soon it was spinning faster and causing the tall grass around it billow in its wake.

"Nowhere near it," Riddle sighed as he watched a yellow number seventy flash on the screen of the monitor. "Here," he added as he pulled out his own wand and added to the speed.

The monitor's numbers climbed. Past seventy to one-hundred and then to one-hundred and sixty-three. The grass around the craft looked as though a helicopter was landing, but suddenly Tom smelt a burning sort of scent. He looked to Hermione out of the corner of his eye and saw her narrowing her eyes on the thing in concentration.

She shrieked as the grass around the merry-go-round burst to flames. Riddle quickly put it out with the help of Meg and looked to Hermione.

"The friction is causing sparks and that ignited the grass. We'll just clear the grass away," she said simply as she pointed her wand at the grass around and under the merry-go-round. "Ready?"

"Wait!" he called. "I've got a quick question. What are we going to do if we get this thing to work anyways?"

"Jump into the center of its mass of course," she replied.

"Uh-huh..." Tom's voice sounded incredulous.

"Just trust me," Hermione grumbled as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked to Megalise who smiled and pointed her wand at the merry-go-round.

Once more they tried to accelerate it, but that only kicked up dust and caused Meg and Hermione to sneeze.

"Bubble-Head Charm... that'll stop the dust," the younger witch suggested.

Reluctantly, Riddle and Meg did as Hermione instructed and cast a Bubble-Head Charm on themselves.

"This is unbelievably ridiculous," he mumbled as they started to accelerate the craft once more.

As they did, he laid the gun down on the ground and picked up a stone. He stood up straight once more and waited until the dust was flying through the air again before tossing the stone toward the spinning merry-go-round. It hit the base and slid back off, the gravitational pull far too great for it to stay there long. He ducked quickly as it came flying back in his direction, the merry-go-round slowing down as he and Hermione stopped.

"What was that for?" she asked haughtily as Riddle stood up.

"We were going to jump on that, I just wanted to see what would happen if we did," he replied somewhat angrily. "I'd rather like to stay in one piece and not go flying off through the air and land some ten meters away only to be broken in half!"

"Being a bit dramatic, aren't you?" Hermione shot.

"Whatever," Tom grumbled.

"What if you sat on the thing and accelerated it like that. I mean, you could strap yourself down, couldn't you?" Meg suggested.

"No," he replied before Hermione could get any words out of her open mouth.

"We couldn't do that because it would be too high of a gravitational force on our bodies," the more youthful of the two women further explained as she gave Riddle a quick glare.

"It would crush our bodies," he added. "Our weight would more than triple."

"And with a fat head like yours, your neck would be the first thing to break," Hermione grumbled so that he couldn't hear.

"If you can't say it out loud, don't say it at all," he scolded with an air of superiority.

"I said," she half yelled, "that with a-"

"Um... hello! Still here," Meg bellowed. "So what if this way doesn't work. It's not totally hopeless, right? You still have other things to try, don't you?"

"Well yeah. A couple," Hermione muttered.

"Then let's hop to it, shall we?" the older witch suggested.

Hermione sighed and transfigured the merry-go-round back into the branch and boulder.

"Let's hop to it," the Gryffindor repeated with mock enthusiasm as they set off to try another experiment.

* * *

Hours later, Hermione was feeling mass frustration as yet another experiment, which was the sixth since their merry-go-round one, failed. She dropped down onto a rock inside the cave and felt her temples throb. Today was getting more and more frustrating. 

To start, she had awoke with a guilty feeling toward Tom and then had Porthos try to force himself on her. Now she was in debt to Riddle because he technically saved her, and everything she was trying was failing. '_Damn this day!_' she thought in aggravation.

"You know," Tom sighed as he sat next to her on the ground, playing with a blade of grass, "I don't think making another diary would be a bad idea."

"Haven't we gone over this once?" she snapped. "I'm not splitting my soul for it all to blow up in my face and possibly send me even further back in time!"

Meg looked up from the stump she was sitting on and watched the tension grow as Riddle jumped to his feet to tower above Hermione.

"Oh, but it was all right for us to try that stupid Muggle thing with that merry-go-round, huh? You, yourself, said that if it screwed up, and we went back in time, it was a risk we would have to take!" he fired back. "No wonder the stupid stuff isn't working... it's got everything to do with MUGGLES! Idiocy! Complete and utter IDIOCY!"

"Oh, shut your face for once you cocky prick!" Hermione screamed as she too jumped to her feet and tried to burn a hole through his face with her eyes. Needless to say, her efforts were fruitless as he continued to rant at her.

"I'm the prick! You're the one not letting anyone else give any ideas," he hissed.

"Then offer one up, genius!" she snarled.

"I just did!"

"And I said no!" she bellowed.

"See!" Riddle roared.

"Um... s'cuse me," Meg called. "Hello? Hey!"

"WHAT?!" Tom and Hermione yelled in unison as they both rounded on Meg.

"Whoa! Hey now... don't go yelling at me, I'm just trying to help," she growled. "Go sort out your sexual tension some other time and place, not around me while we should be figuring this thing out." With that, Meg stood up and stormed off into the cave.

"Sexual tension?" Hermione repeated as she turned back to Riddle with a puzzled look.

"She's right," he whispered just loud enough for the Gryffindor girl to hear.

"What?" she gasped, sounding shocked.

"Not about the tension thing, Granger," he said. "About us working."

"Yeah, I guess so," she exhaled as she dropped back down onto the rock and pushed her hair back; it was starting to frizz and that didn't help her mood any. "Maybe we should just clean up for today and come back early tomorrow."

"We only have two days left though," Tom pointed out.

"I know," Hermione answered in a watery voice as tears welled in her eyes.

She rose, turned, and started for the cave entrance when something stopped her dead.

"Hermione," he called. "It'll... be um... all right. We'll help her."

"Oh Tom!" Hermione cried as she threw herself at him, and hugged him around the neck.

He stood there wide-eyed and gaping, and before he knew it, she had his face in her hands, and her lips pressed to his. Riddle didn't know what to do. So he did what came to him naturally and went on with his instincts. He pulled her to him, holding her tight by her waist with his arms as he pressed down. She smiled against his lips, the tears that had been streaming down her cheeks drying against his. '_I knew there was something good about him!_' she thought as he deepened the kiss, his tongue barely touching her own as he traced her bottom lip.

'_Ah, clarity for the first time in days!_' his mind sighed as he felt her hands move from his cheeks to his back when she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I think I- oh!" Megalise said as she came out of the cave with the little pocket watch that they were going to use as a time turner. "Never mind. I'll tell you later," she mumbled more to herself than to them as they stood uninterrupted and still kissing. A smile slid onto Meg's face as she shook her head and entered the cave once more to research a little further on her idea.


	17. Siren Hollow Cliffs

**A/N:** And here I give you the second part of the chapter. As well as a special thanks to the super speedy reviewers: _x The Life of a Cheez It x _and _nehimasgift._ Thanks and here's the second part of your Friday two chapter update! Hope you likes.  
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Chapter 17 – Siren Hollow Cliffs**

Hermione and Tom broke apart, both short of breath and red in the face from flushing. Hermione inhaled deeply and was about to lay her head on his shoulder when he backed away from her, breaking off all touch. She gazed at him in a puzzled way, but something in his eyes clarified everything for her. There was a sparkling that seemed to say that he wasn't moving away out of disgust, but out of consideration for the both of them.

'_Slow, Hermione, slow_,' she coached herself mentally as she closed her eyes and bowed her head while adjusting a small, polite smile on her face.

"Shall we go check on Meg?" she suggested.

"Yeah, sure," he replied as he walked past her and into the cave.

She followed only to have the blush in her cheeks deepen when Meg spoke to them.

"Finished, or should I leave the cave?" She looked back and forth between them with a knowing, amused expression before Riddle sat down and began poking around in the ashes of the dead fire. He ignored the two women, becoming engrossed in the patterns he was making with the stick among the black soot.

"So... what is that you're working on now?" Hermione asked shyly as she sat down next to her female companion.

"I thought about the time turner concept _combined_ with a Portkey Charm," Megalise answered triumphantly.

The Gryffindor Head Girl said nothing as she stared at the pocket watch in Meg's lap as she seemingly thought on the topic.

"That just might be possible," Hermione finally spoke up.

"Then we'll work on it tomorrow," Tom suggested. "We really need to get back; it's getting late. It looks as though the sun is going to set in an hour or two, and we don't need the King sending out a search party and finding us here. He'll have my head for not keeping you at the university."

"He's right," Meg agreed as she stood up and stretched. "I'll see you all tomorrow," she bid as she lit a fire; preparing for them to put the boulder back over the cave entrance, and the darkness that would follow that.

"'Bye," Hermione said as she stood and left with Riddle following behind her after a curt nod to Meg.

They exited the cave before Tom replaced the large rock and then they mounted their horses. However, they forgot one important thing. As they rode away, they left the large, circular patch of grass missing, and the dead branch was still sticking up from the ground, making it look as though a tiny tree was beginning to grow there.

* * *

"You know, it's strange," Hermione sighed as she stood in the sun room watching the sun set as Tom sat at the piano playing with three of the keys. 

"What's strange?" he asked without looking up as he sat up and began to place his fingers in the proper position.

"There's time travel all around, and yet we're having so much trouble with it," she replied.

"What d'you mean?" he inquired as he pushed all his fingers down and caused a loud, awful tone of noise to issue from the piano.

"The sun for instance," she stated as she grimaced at the noise. "We're actually seeing as it was in the past and not as it is in the present."

"You're not making any sense, Hermione," Riddle informed, surprising her once more as he used her first name, though she didn't show it.

"See the sun right now? It takes eight light minutes for its light to reach us. So we're really looking at it as it was eight minutes in the past," she explained.

"You mean we would have to travel eight minutes into the future to see it as it is right now?"

"Yeah," she said with a faint smile.

Tom stood and moved over next to her in front of the large bay windows. They leaned against the piano, side by side, just enjoying the beauty of the sunset and each other's company.

"You know, Granger, you're just full of useless information some times," he joked after a minute.

She gave a soft chuckle before standing up straight and heading for the door, leaving Tom to watch the last of the sunset by himself.

As Hermione walked down the hall, she saw the General and Porthos step into a room and shut the door. '_Wonder what they're up to?_' she pondered as she quickened her pace and stood outside the room with her ear to the door. The voices were muffled at first; Hermione was only able to make out the words 'strange', 'circle', and 'out'. Then the General's enraged voice came through loud and clear like the gong of a bell.

"What d'you mean by it, boy?" he bellowed. "She couldn't have been out!"

Hermione's eyes grew wide. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what this was about. Megalise.

"I told you! There was this weird circle made in the grass in the meadow next to the cave, and there was this dead looking tree sprouting from the center of it. I went into the cave with Connor and Marshall and there she was sitting on a rock poking at a fire with a stick," Porthos snapped. "How much clearer can I make it?"

"I knew she was a witch, but this is troubling. What if she gets free? She knows of a great deal... especially about our plans and such," Mardon growled.

Porthos began to speak, but she could only hear a hum of his voice now. Hermione pushed further against the door, becoming alarmed when it pushed ajar, but neither the General nor the blond soldier in the room with him noticed. Hermione listened hard and found that the opening made it much easier to hear now.

"I think someone has been helping her," the sapphire-eyed boy confided.

"Who?" Mardon spat.

"Aramis D'Artagnan," Porthos replied.

"Nonsense," the General sibilated. "He helped us bring the witch in."

"He's never shown insubordination like he did today though."

"Insubordination? How?" Mardon quizzed.

"See this?" Porthos asked as he showed his neck to the older man. "He did that to defend the Princess. The damn fool knows of our plans! Now he's trying to stop them? I think he's in love with the little brat, and he plans on helping the witch escape to get us in trouble."

"As I said before, we'll just have to take care of him," Mardon stated threateningly. "But first, we'll get rid of that witch... tonight."

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat and knew then and there that she must warn Tom. She turned and ran back for the sun room, catching him just as he was about to leave.

"What is it, Granger?" he asked as he caught her and saw the panic on her face.

"Up to my room. Quickly," Hermione ordered as she grabbed his hand and began dragging him for the room.

Once they were shut inside the four walls of her quarters, she pushed Riddle down into a sitting position on the bed and took a deep breath.

"I hardly think this is the time or place, Granger," he said with a puzzled and slightly worried expression as he looked at the bed.

She shook her head frantically and took a few calming breaths to steady herself before blurting out what she had heard.

"Mardon and Porthos are going to get Meg tonight, and they're after you, too!"

"Wait," Tom said firmly. "What?"

"I overhead them. Porthos told Mardon he thinks that you're helping Meg because of how you stuck up for me today at the library," Hermione explained. "So, now they're going to get rid of Meg tonight and then try and get you."

Tom said nothing as he stared at the floor for a moment in thought. He stood slowly without speaking and headed for the door.

"Where're you going?" Hermione asked urgently.

"To stop them at all costs," he responded simply before walking out into the corridor.

"Wait! I'm coming!"

"No, you're n-"

"Tom. Don't argue. I'm going," she stated with a tone of finality.

"Very well," Riddle sighed in frustration. He knew it was no use arguing because she could either go with him and be somewhat safe or go by herself and bumble things up greatly. '_She'll only land herself in a world of trouble if I don't take her with me_._ Let's just hope she doesn't get us both in a world of mischief_.'

"Let's not just stand around then. C'mon," Hermione urged as she headed down the corridor.

He followed her through the castle to the front door and then outside. She was headed for the carriage, but Tom grabbed her sleeve and shook his head.

"This way," he said as he nodded.

She followed him quickly to the stone stable out back, but when they got inside they found that they had more problems than just going to save Meg. There was only one horse.

"Mardon's got them out being prepared for tonight. Look," Tom directed as he nodded toward the castle where several horses were being led to the front. "Damn him."

"Then we had best hurry," Hermione added as she pulled the remaining horse from its stall.

"Wait. _We?_" he repeated.

"Yes, I told you I was going, and I need your help, so you're not staying behi-"

"And just how are we getting there? I'm not walking, and I know you won't," he pointed out.

"We have a horse, don't we?"

"But that's one horse for two people," Riddle complained. "And there's not even a saddle for it," he added.

"Are you going to complain or get on?" she asked haughtily as she held the reins and looked at him pointedly.

He grunted and rolled his eyes before huffing and grabbing a stool from the corner of the stable. He climbed up onto the stool and mounted the horse before holding his arm out for Hermione. She grabbed his arm, a bit surprised at how securely he held her own as she stepped up onto the stool to assist him in hoisting her up.

She sat behind him, holding on to his waist as he looked around while trying to figure out how to get out.

"What are you doing?" she asked while trying to look at his expression.

"We can't very well go out the front gate," he replied, clearing her bewilderment.

"Oh, this is stupid; we're wasting time," Hermione huffed as she let go of Tom's waist and fiddled with something behind him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, but she needn't respond as he saw her pointing a wand at herself and him. "Are you mental?" Riddle snapped as he grabbed her arm and made her put the wand down out of sight. "That's why I didn't use magic to help you up here; anyone could see!"

"Who's really watching?" she asked cockily as she wrenched her wrist free and quickly disillusioned them and the horse. "Now let's go."

He snapped the reins and grinned as he felt Hermione grab tight to his waist. He felt like one of those knights that he had seen on the covers of the books laying around the orphanage. The ones that rode in, saved the Princess, and then swept her off to a far away, sunny place where they lived happily ever after. '_Wonder if we'll get anywhere near happily ever after?_' Tom pondered. He then mentally slapped himself for such a thought and set his mind to getting out of the castle. They passed the band of horses for Mardon and his men and then moved to the front gate which was unguarded at the moment as the soldiers stood helping saddle the horses. Hermione charmed it open, and she and Riddle rode quickly down into town.

It would seem that it this was their evening for obstacles and troubles as they entered town and found the streets positively crowded.

"What's going on?" Hermione whispered to Tom.

"Your stupid _father_ is having a parade through town... Nice damn day for it," Riddle grouched as he steered the horse into a little walkway.

The horse neighed and people surrounding them looked around curiously for the source of the sound. Tom snapped the reins, and they trotted down the walk before emerging on another street that was completely unoccupied. He snapped the reins again causing the horse to go into a slow gallop, but that still wasn't fast enough for Riddle.

By the time they figured out a way out of town, the first few stars were out. Tom felt a growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach that Mardon and the others had set out already. '_They've got to be advancing on us_,' Tom assured himself nervously as he snapped the reins again and felt Hermione tighten her hold on his waist.

They made it to the cave and saw a light coming from inside. The rock was moved over a crack, and Riddle wasted no time in moving it gently. The ground shook as the boulder landed, and they removed the Disillusionment Charm. That's when Hermione noticed something she hadn't earlier that day.

"Oh no!" she muttered.

"What?" he asked as he tried to pull her into the cave.

"We're to blame," she answered as she pointed to the circle of missing grass and the dead tree branch that they had left.

The two exchanged looks and then reality came flashing back to them as they realized that they were wasting time. Meg screamed as she stood up from where she had been laying beside the fire when they came dashing inside; she hadn't been expecting them, or anyone for that matter.

"Meg!" Hermione gasped. "C'mon! Now!"

"What? Why?" Megalise asked frantically.

"Questions later, let's go!" Tom ordered.

"But the stuff," Meg argued in a worried tone as she pointed to the things scattered about the floor of the cave in the back.

"Get it quickly," he instructed through gritted teeth; his patience was thinning. If Mardon found Hermione and him there with Meg, he would surely kill them along with her. And even though witches and wizards could preform a Flame-Freezing Charm, Tom imagined it would be hard to do that if they didn't burn them. '_I can't exactly freeze bullets from a firing brigade_,' he thought as he watched the two females throw things into a basket. Then something alarmed him. It was the jingling and rattling of reins as voices sounded outside.

"The cave's open!" someone yelled.

"Check if she's in there," Mardon ordered. "If not, scour the surrounding woods immediately. She can't get far!"

"Move!" Riddle ordered as he dashed toward Hermione, throwing a spell at the flames of the fire to extinguish it as he saw shadows coming into the cave.

He grabbed Hermione's hand and thought hard about the woods not far from the cave. Hermione bellowed as they Disapparated with a loud, echoing crack, leaving Meg behind.

"No!" Hermione screamed.

"Quiet!" Tom commanded as he put a hand to her mouth and watched the cave from their new position in the woods.

He and Hermione were just on the edge of the forest watching Mardon and what had to be Porthos and four other men. Among the group was another, a woman's figure who was struggling as they bound her and sat her up on a horse. Two guards rode on either side of Megalise as they started off, Mardon's booming voice reaching even Hermione and Tom's ears.

"Siren Hollow!" he directed.

"Move quickly and stay low," Riddle instructed as he grabbed Hermione's hand and led her toward the cave. "Now where's the damn horse? Why didn't we remove that charm from him, too?"

"We were in a bit of a hurry," she grumbled as they searched for the horse.

They finally found it around the side of the cave, munching on the tall grass, and still very much disillusioned. Hermione lifted the spell, and they climbed quickly onto the horse while moving as fast as possible to keep up with the General. They took off at a gallop down the dirt road, Mardon's group just in sight in the growing darkness.

"It's getting impossible to see, but still, can they see us?" Hermione asked as she shivered; it was growing cold and being on a horse only made it worse because of the biting breeze.

"There's a wooded area up here that we'll be able to hide well enough in," Tom replied softly as she hunched up against his back to block some of the wind.

Before long they were in the woods, and the sounds that filled it reminded Hermione of the Forbidden Forest, and her walk through it in her first year. There were owls hooting; their big glowing eyes watching them as they passed. Twigs breaking here and there as leaves rustled along the ground and then there was the sound of a stream nearby that made Hermione shiver a bit more as she imagined the cool water within its tiny banks. But as she listened to the stream, she thought it strange that the sound of water was now growing louder. '_Surely that stream isn't that large_,' Hermione thought as she looked up and saw that they were emerging from the woods. The sight that met her eyes alarmed her.

There was a grass beaten path off the dirt road and along the path was stone statues of angels, crosses, and some of courageous knights kneeling. The Gryffindor Head Girl bit down on her lip as Riddle slid off the horse and helped her down. They were leading Meg to the cliffs. Hermione moved to rush forward, but Tom held onto her arm.

"Stay put," he said firmly, but quietly as he drew out his wand and began to aim it at Mardon. "He's moving too much... and now he's behind that damn statue."

Hermione too pulled out her wand, but she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate enough to cast a half decent spell.

They were now binding Meg to a large stake in the ground just at the edge of the cliff.

"They're going to burn her," Hermione whispered in horrified awe.

"No, they're not," Riddle said as he sat up a bit. "They're going to shoot her."

"Stop them!" she commanded with her voice on edge.

Tom aimed and shook his head.

"I need to get closer."

They moved forward, Hermione's heart beating madly one moment and then feeling as though it wasn't beating at all the next. She could hear her breathing; it was rapid, heavy, and uneven as they now hid behind a statue, and Tom took aim. He whispered something Hermione couldn't heard and then she watched as one of the three guards who was going to shoot went flying through the air.

"You horrid witch!" Mardon bellowed as he moved forward.

"Now's your chance," Hermione whispered urgently.

Tom aimed and hit Mardon who flew through the air, landing hard on the rocks. He got up quickly though and stormed off toward Megalise.

"Apparate!" Hermione gasped worriedly.

"She can't," Riddle said. "Mardon has a hold of her and that stake is probably one hell of a thing to Apparate with."

Suddenly, within the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened. The very thing that Hermione and Tom had come to stop went into motion. Mardon jarred the stake, and it toppled perilously over the cliff. Riddle's breathing stopped, and Hermione jumped up quickly while lunging forward. He grabbed her and held her back by her waist as they watched Mardon himself teetered on the edge before Porthos and two others grabbed him, pulling him back to safety.

"Meg," Hermione spoke in a broken voice.

Tom frowned and pulled her to him. He let her bury her face in his shoulder as her body began to convulse with sobs.

"C'mon. We better get out of here," he whispered as he led her back to the horse.

Once there, he levitated her up onto its back and took the reins, leading the steed back towards the woods. Both of them hung their heads as a defeated feeling blew over them like the chilling wind that was now howling.


	18. The King's Antidote

**A/N:** I suppose now would be a good time so say I'm sorry for the extremely long gap in updating and tell you that I've been really busy with things. I won't waste your time in telling you everything, but I will say sorry again and thanks to all reviewers!

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Chapter 18 – The King's Antidote**

Hermione's head drooped, and she slid to the left on the horse. She was half asleep and very cold. Before she knew it, her body gave a violent shiver, and she slid completely from the horse. Tom, startled but ready, caught her and groaned a bit before falling to his knees. He too was tired and a little cold. His uniform was becoming highly uncomfortable – as usual – and thunder was sounding in the background.

"Hermione," Riddle said with an urgent and tired irritation.

"Hmm?" she mumbled as she turned her head.

She shivered in his arms as the bottom of her dress lay in the small stream they had crossed early. She sat up, cupping some of the cold water in her hands and splashed it on her face. She shivered once more as Tom followed suit.

They definitely were no longer on the forest path and had long ago been passed by Mardon and his men.

"Tom?" she spoke softly. "Can we go back and see if Meg's there... please?"

"Tomorrow, Granger," he replied in a exhausted way before standing up and yawning with a large stretch.

She sighed, feeling her throat close tight. She wanted to retaliate, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. Her throat was a little sore, and her head was beginning to ache from fatigue. '_No. Now. Meg might still be there, and if she is, she's going to need our help _now_ and fast_,' she thought to herself. She stood quickly to Apparate, but the quickness of her movements gave her a rushing feeling in her head, and she staggered. Tom reached out and grabbed her to steady her before walking over to a tree and using it to climb up onto the horse.

"C'mon," he directed as he pulled out his wand and pointed it at her. "_Wingardium leviosa!_" Hermione felt herself begin to lift off the ground, but her feet only floated about four inches above the ground for a second or two before she was once more on her feet. He got an angry look on his face and gripped his wand harder. "_Wingardium leviosa!_" he cast forcefully. Once more she lifted from the ground and floated toward him. She could tell he was tired by the way she dripped every once in a while as she made her way through the air to him. Hermione finally landed on the horse in front of him, and he wrapped his arms around her as he held the reins.

She yawned and leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and drifting to sleep as she felt the movements of the horse start once more.

* * *

Hermione rolled over and stretched her neck, not wanting to open her eyes; she was still very tired. Her body was aching, but mostly her neck hurt from having fallen asleep while riding home last night. She grimaced; the pillow she was sleeping on wasn't helping the pain she felt. She pushed on it to try and soften it, but it only groaned. '_Groaned! Wait! Pillows don't groan_,' Hermione thought in a panic as she sat bolt upright and looked to her right.

Next to her in the bed was Tom. She gasped, her heart almost stopping as she ripped back the covers to see that she was still fully clothed. She exhaled heavily in relief as she stared down at her dirty dress. She soon found herself smiling as she realized what he must have done. He had to of carried her up to the room, whether by magic or not, put her in bed, removed her shoes, and covered her up.

She looked over at him and bit down on her bottom lip as she felt butterflies form in her stomach. She laid back, propping herself up on her right elbow as she reached over to his face with her left hand. Hermione brushed back a piece of jet black hair from his eyes and felt her hand tremble nervously. She inhaled deeply before laying down with her head on his shoulder. She was about to close her eyes when she sat back up as the thought of being caught like this occurred to her. She and Riddle would be in big trouble if that happened, so she decided to ensure their privacy. She reached up her sleeve to retrieve her wand, but found that it wasn't there. She felt panic set in as she looked around frantically, but she soon spotted it on the nightstand next to the bed.

She picked it up and charmed the door so that it was locked. Laying her head back down, Hermione sighed contentedly before closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep in the early morning light. If only she had looked up, her chocolate eyes would have met ebony ones as they glittered a bit uncertainly before a smile cracked across the pale face those eyes belonged to.

Tom closed his eyes and draped his arm over Hermione before going back to sleep himself.

* * *

"Eat my dear," the King said cheerfully as Hermione sat there staring down in a daze at her plate. 

Waking up with Riddle this morning had been a comfort, but when she had awoke the second time, it wasn't such a joy. She had dreamed about the night before. About Meg and about the things that Mardon and his son might do to Tom as well as Hermione, herself. When she had awoke after the nightmare, she had fought off the urge to cry; hiding it from Tom who awoke when she sat bolt upright in the bed. They didn't spend much time discussing anything; he knew what her plans for the day were, so they headed off to Siren Hollow Cliffs once more, but had come home three hours later with no trace of their newly lost friend.

Hermione had been sullen and quiet ever since. Her only responses when spoken to were to nod.

"Anastasia? Are you ill, dear?" the King inquired as he laid down his utensils and grabbed her hand.

Hermione nodded as tears welled in her eyes. She stood up and left the table while leaving her plate completely untouched. She moved through the hallways quickly as she heard footsteps behind her. She was in no mood to be stopped and questioned by the King or anyone of his court. She came to a door she knew well. The same one she had come straight to when they had returned earlier that day; the door to the butterfly room. She opened it quickly and was getting ready to dash in and shut the door when someone grabbed her shoulder.

"Hey, Granger, wait up," Tom said as he turned her around slightly.

He ushered her in the room and shut the door before she wiped her eyes quickly and turned to him fully. A frown flinched momentarily on his face before he lead her to the butterfly cage and to the center bench. They sat down, and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. She wiped away more tears and sniffled a bit before looking away from his direction.

"I want to go home... now," she muttered in a choked way. "I don't want to be here anymore, Tom."

"Believe me, I know more than anyone how you feel," he sighed as he leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

There was a pause and then Hermione spoke. Her voice was on the edge of breaking off into tears once more.

"There's not hope of us ever getting home, is there?"

Riddle looked back at her. Her eyes sparkling with tears that threatened to fall fast and many. He leaned back and sighed while looking her straight in the eye after a moment of analyzing the floor.

"I don't know... truly, I don't," he breathed. "I mean, I hope we'll get back. I know we must, but how well things will work is uncertain."

She wanted nothing more than to smack him in the back of the head and tell him that it was all his fault, but a strange reasoning came to mind. '_It wasn't _really_ him. It was his older self, so he wouldn't have really had a say in things. He was trapped in the diary... sort of an innocent bystander._' She laughed inwardly at her thought. '_Him? Innocent?_' She looked at him for a moment as though contemplating this. Was he innocent? '_No_,' she thought. '_He has already killed people... But can't people change?_'

She watched his hand move slowly into the air, pale fingers reaching up and letting a butterfly land gently on his fingertips. He looked to her out of the corner of his eye as she watched the paced, soft flutter of the creamy wings on the tiny creature; they were almost like a heartbeat. He smirked and turned towards her a tad, raising his hand in such a way that the butterfly almost didn't know it was moving.

The wings touched her jaw bone and brushed up her cheek before they took to the air, carrying with them a small, sort of fuzzy dark brown body. The butterfly Tom had been holding became lost among the thousands of others. Just like how Hermione's thoughts became lost in the depths of Riddle's dark, enchanting eyes. '_There is something redeeming about him..._'

* * *

Hermione ran down the corridor of the second floor of the castle. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and her eyes were streaming with tears. She had just left the second floor study where the King had been laying upon the floor. He was wounded to the stomach and gasping for air as a deadly poison took over his body. 

She needed to get out; they were after her too. She could hear them behind her. Their loud, ominous footsteps clopping behind her as they carryied with them the sound of a cruel laughter that was sinister, cold, and panic-inducing. She had heard it many times before.

Rounding the corner, she made to descend the stairs, but found her path came to a startling end. The stairs were no more. There was a gap in the center as though they had been blasted away. She became even more wide-eyed with fear. Without her wand and no way to go but back, she looked around frantically.

Below, just at the foot of the broken stone steps, lay a figure she faintly recognized. A stark military uniform and jet black hair made a groaning noise from the ground. She felt her heart break as she realized who it was.

"Tom!" she screamed as though willing him to rise and be perfectly fine as if this wasn't happening. Instead, a horrid, twisted chortle crept closer to her, bringing with it a pair of icy, pale hands that gripped her upper arms just below her shoulders. Fearing she might see the usual ghastly, glowing red eyes that she had saw when that laughter came near, Hermione shut her eyes as she was whipped forcefully around in a jerking motion.

"I can't have my bride not look at me when I kill her. Open your eyes," the cruel chuckle voiced.

She, realizing that this wasn't the voice that usually accompanied the laughter and vivid red eyes, opened hers as she was told and stared at a face that now held all the horror a parchment white one used to. The face of Porthos smirked manically down at her as she watched soldiers, lead by Mardon, close in around them.

"I shall finally have my kingdom," the blond whispered in a crazed way. "And you... shall finally see death, just as your father and lover did."

"NO!" Hermione screamed as the soldiers drew their swords.

Each soldier, their eyes without an iris or pupil, thrust their weapons at her. She screamed once more and felt her body shake; startled to the core. Her eyes closed tight and then opened suddenly. She looked around the darkened room, a cold sweat drenching her body, and a tingling sensation that remained from her nightmare. She rubbed her arms and sat up in the bed while huddling herself up as she wrapped her arms around her legs and held them to her chest.

"It was just a dream... only a dream," she coached herself as she began to rock.

She looked to the balcony and frowned. She had hoped to see a tall, dark, security figure there, but her hopes were dashed. Yet something in that hope amazed her. She was awed a just how quickly her dreams had went from cottages in the country with Ron and last battles with Harry and the Order where Voldemort lurked around every corner, scary and ready to kill, to a young man named Porthos and his insane general father chasing after her as she searched out the man who would grow up to be the one she had feared from previous dreams and realities. '_Odd_,' she mused before sighing heavily and deciding to lay back down. If she was lucky, she would have the dream she had a few nights prior to this one. The dream where a soldier with dark hair, even darker eyes, and pale skin rode up on a black stallion to whisk her away from this castle where she stayed with danger in every stone.

* * *

"Princess!" 

"_Princess!_"

"Oh! Do wake up, please?"

Hermione rolled over and blinked sleepily at Mary and Janessa who were shaking her awake. Groaning and rubbing her eyes, the false Princess sat up and grunted before dropping back on the bed. Last night wasn't the most restful night she had ever had, and she was hoping to sleep in today.

"C'mon, sleepy head," Janessa urged. "You must get ready."

"For what?" the Gyrffindor Head Girl grumbled as she pressed a pillow to her face in hopes of making it dark once more.

"To go shopping. What else?" Mary explained.

"Shopping for what?" Hermione continued to question.

"A gown for the ball. It's only two nights away now."

"You're father, the King, just announced it this morning at sun up. He's got messengers out placing notices in town right now," Janessa informed.

"What in the name of sanity is this ball for?" Hermione asked.

"Surely you're joking, dear Princess," the other maid laughed, but the bewildered look on Hermione's face made her stop.

"You truly don't know?" the second lady in waiting muttered as though surprised.

"No, I don't. Should I?"

"Why, your father is throwing a ball for your eighteenth birthday. We overheard him this morning while taking your laundry down," Mary began.

"He said he was only going to take you away to Paris for a week, but that you seemed ill, and he figured a surprise ball would help," Janessa finished.

"Well, it's not much of a surprise now, is it?" Hermione pointed out.

"And what's more," Mary said, ignoring Hermione's comment, "your father, the King, is inviting the young men from the militia!"

"He's hoping you'll find a suitable suitor there," Janessa enlightened Hermione as Mary went off into sighs. "He thinks that will cheer you as well."

"A... suitor?" Hermione almost choked.

"Yes! Just imagine all the handsome young men... and not to mention the princes from other kingdoms!" Mary droned dreamily.

"Oh no," Hermione mumbled as she laid her forehead in her hand and closed her eyes.

"No time to dawdle then," Mary chimed excitedly. "Eat up and get ready to go into town."

* * *

"So this is his idea to cheer you up?" Tom asked Hermione as they looked through a dress shop. 

He pulled a lacy, ruffly dress off the rack and grimaced before tossing it to the floor.

"Yeah, I know," Hermione sighed as she leaned against a wall. "And what's worse... he wants me to pick a future husband."

Riddle said nothing to this as he burst out laughing.

"What?" she hissed. "Will you quiet down? You'll have those two over here."

"He wants you to find a husband?" Tom snickered.

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled. "Right now, let's concentration on getting one of these Merlin awful dresses."

"How about this one?" he asked as he picked up the one he discarded on the floor.

"Put that down before I hex you," she sibilated as she sighed heavily and shook her head.

She was on her way to the door when she spotted a royal blue dress hanging on a shelf in the corner. She narrowed her eyes and got a half smile on her face as Riddle passed her and said something about waiting outside. She ignored him and went straight to the rack, grabbing the dress and smiling even bigger when she saw that it wasn't completely covered with some kind of ruffle, lace, or sequin.

"Find anything yet, Princess?" Mary asked as she came over carrying two dresses.

"Yes, actually," Hermione said as she headed for the clerk.

"Mary and I found some nice ones," Janessa pointed out as she pointed to the two dresses in Mary's arms.

Hermione frowned at the poof-like shoulders and itchy looking under skirt.

"That's okay. I'll just get this one," Hermione muttered.

"Excellent choice," the clerk beamed at her.

"This one just came in," his assistant added as she took the dress from Hermione and left the clerk to get the money.

"Whatever it is, just put it on my father's tab," came a voice from across the shop.

Hermione turned around, and Mary and Janessa sighed dreamily as Porthos made his way over. The way he walked reminded her very much of Draco; cocky and tailed by two large goons.

"Thank you," Hermione said as she let Mary take the dress. "Sorry I haven't any time to stay and chat. I've got to be heading back to the castle for lunch with my father."

"Very well, m'lady," Porthos said as he bowed, grabbing Hermione's hand and kissing it.

Hermione thought seriously about spitting on his head as she tried not to cringe at his lips on her hand. Forcing a smile and nodding, she left the shop quickly, Mary and Janessa in tail, both giggling and staring back at Porthos who smiled and waved.

"What did that stuff shirt want?" Tom snarled as he helped Hermione up into the carriage.

"Don't worry about it. Let's just go," she mumbled to him as she stepped into the carriage followed by Mary and Janessa and finally Riddle as well.


	19. A Grand & Glorious Affair

**A/N:** I have returned to bestow upon my wonder readers/reviewers Chapter 19 and many thanks, especially to the following: _ellamalfoy8, Silver Tears 11, hippychick21, nehimasgift, Skavnema, san01, svelte, hanvu, pottersgirl91, The Almighty Cheez It, litprincess, Shadows08, pastyglue, _and _HPluvagrl_.

And one more quick note. In this chapter, a new character appears, a character fashioned after one of my great friends from the site as well as the HermioneGranger/OliverWood Yahoo! Group, Mima (a.k.a. Vera-Sabe on the site). Her name is, in fact, truly Romanian and very beautiful if I do say so myself (which I do), and the proper way to pronounce it is here: _Iemima Amariei - Ya-mee-ma A-ma-ree-yay_ (told you it was quite lovely)

Anyways, enjoy the chapter! **

* * *

Chapter 19 – A Grand and Glorious Affair**

Hermione frowned at the mirror before her. She sat in her room, staring at the vanity and wishing that she were anywhere but where she was, preparing for what she was. The night of the ball had sprang on her like a black cat in the dark.

'_My life has become a bad clash of Lavender and Parvati meets Pansy and Fleur_,' she mused in desperation as she placed her face in her hands and groaned. What had happened to the practical Hermione?

'_I'll tell you what happened_,' a snide, Ron-like voice spat from the depths of her mind. '_She's stuck in the twentieth century while you're stuck in some wretched mistake which causes you to parade around in itchy, ridiculous dresses while clinging to the words – and arm, no less – of the future wizarding world's Dark Lord. Are you proud of yourself, little miss practical?_'

"Oh, _shut up_!" Hermione growled into the mirror before standing and heading toward the balcony.

The creak of the door hinges stopped her though, and the King's voice called to her.

"A glorious night it shall b-," he began, but stopped abruptly at the sight of her. "Why have you not yet dressed? There is but five minutes before you are to be downstairs."

"I might be a little late," Hermione mumbled, turning from him and staring out at the clear, darkening sky. The stars would definitely shine brightly for the ball tonight.

"Is something the matter?" asked the King. Hermione pondered for the tiniest second about telling him of the General's plans, but his next question pushed those thoughts quickly from her mind. "Are you not well? You act as though you have caught something that causes you ill as of late." If she were to tell him, then he would certainly think she was sick.

"No," Hermione sighed before turning and giving a more cheerful tone, "Father, nothing brings me ill being. It's nerves, you see... all those people and..." Her voice trailed off, and she forced a smile as he cooed at her while grinning.

"There's nothing to fear. The people attending will love you," he assured her as he pulled her into a tight embrace and then held her at arm's length to look her over. "My how you've grown... eighteen already. I had hoped that your mother would be here to see this day, but I guess she's not here in the way I had expected her. From our hearts she watches, and she tells me that she wants to see you dressed quite beautifully, so hurry now. Shall I send your ladies to help?"

"Oh, no," Hermione answered quickly, remembering the dresses that they had tried to get her to buy. The last thing she needed was the help of Mary and Janessa in a task such as getting ready for a ball. "I'll manage," she added with a tense smile.

The King sighed and returned her smile before leaving, shutting the door behind him. Hermione shook her head and dropped down at the vanity once more. She pulled her wand from its drawer and pointed it at the door. After locking it to all outsiders, she effortlessly went to work on making herself somewhat to the King's expectations.

* * *

"This uniform is pure idiocy," Tom growled as he tucked two fingers between his choking, stiff gold collar and his irritated neck. 

"Ah, but the ladies love a gent in uniform," Arthos stated with a cheeky grin. "Though I think it will be hard to get any ladies to notice us other gents with you in the room," he added as he looked longingly after two young women who passed, both looking Riddle over and giggling.

"I have no interest in them," Tom reassured him in a serious, half muttered tone. His eyes scanned the room, passing over the King who was among a group of important looking men, one of them the General. '_A snake in a bag of old ropes_,' Riddle thought as he continued to scan the room. He spotted Porthos entertaining a group of four or five young women, all of them in a giggling nature as he flashed a Lockhart-like grin. '_Ignorant fool... wouldn't be surprised if he was related to the Malfoys_.'

Then Tom's eyes landed upon the entrance to the room. Hermione's two so-called ladies in waiting, Mary and Janessa, entered the room on the arms of two military men. All four wore the same expression of a simple child in a candy shop which made Riddle give himself a mental note to check up on them later; he was sure there would be some hilarity that entailed trouble to be seen. But all thoughts of such events were soon swept away as another entered the room.

Eyes downcast and hands clutching to the folds in her dress, Hermione made her way in. Tom felt awed by her beauty; it was of the simple, yet elegant type, something he admired in that moment. A hazy sort of euphoric expression adorned his face as he took in her features. The milky, silken sheen of her skin that lay bare above the fabric of her dress seemed to entrance him. He imagined himself running his fingertips down her unadorned neck, which many would say was plain without jewels, but he saw it perfect. He traced that imagined path to the dip of her collarbone, which with each breath made her look like a goddess of grace and poise.

His eyes raptured in examining the rest of her. She didn't even seem like the same Hermione he had been working with as she stood at the doors of the room. Her hair, pulled back at the nape of her neck, held a curl that wasn't usually its own. And the golden tiara that sat atop her head made her seem like more of an angel with a golden halo.

His heart gave a strange pang as his eyes wandered over her. From her bare shoulders to her floor-sweeping, sapphire dress to the sparkle of her eye, Tom found all aspects to be ones of ravishing delight. He was jerked from his inspection though as her head jerked up upon the voice of someone over all others.

"Announcing the arrival of our esteemed hostess of honor... the Princess... Anastasia!" bellowed a guard at the door.

All eyes turned to her, chattering paused for only a minute, which felt like an eternity to both Tom and Hermione, before the room burst into a polite, well-mannered, and light applause which sounded like a pleasant rain on a tin roof. Her eyes shifted nervously over her guests as she bit at the inside of her lip. Sure, she had been in a situation somewhat of the same manner before, but never to this magnitude. The time before she had been only in the soft glow of the limelight on the arm of one Bulgarian champion, Viktor Krum. Yet, here she was now, the center of attention; the limelight blinding her as chatter started once more.

People were obviously talking about her as they whispered to their surrounding neighbors and glanced at her every few seconds. She wanted more than ever to close her eyes and make it disappear, but that would make her seem a fool. Stomach beginning to churn, she decided that being rooted to the spot was not the best thing for her. '_If I move away from the center of their attraction, then maybe they'll go back to talking amongst themselves about other matters_,' Hermione thought to herself. She made to take a step, but was caught at a crossroads only half through her footfall. Tom grimaced as Porthos stepped up to her, inclined his head, and held out an arm for her much to the displeasure of his earlier female companions. She was saved the trouble of having to accept his arm though when the King stepped forward.

He made his apologies to Porthos and swept Hermione away from him to the center of the room. The blond-haired soldier glared at the King as the group of females surrounded him once more as all beseeched him for his first dance of the night. Riddle's lips twisted into a satisfied smirk before he turned away and began walking around the edge of the room, Arthos following him and smiling graciously at any girls who passed.

Back at the center of the room, Hermione was once more thrust into an unfamiliar and all too unsettling situation. The King had begun to introduce her to people; ones she was supposed to remember from her past.

"And of course you remember the Count... or as he prefers, the Earl of Sandwich," the King babbled. "Count John Montagu... remember?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione lied as she forced a toothy grin.

"And his wife, Countess Martha Ray... although you won't remember her. They've just recently been married," the King continued to rattle.

"Congratulations, then," Hermione managed before he turned her in a one-eighty fashion and began to spout off more names.

"Oh, and the Marquess of Wellesley... So good of you to come, dear Richard," the King shook hands vigorously with the man as Hermione inclined her head and prayed for the madness of introductions to stop.

"Ah, Anastasia, my darling daughter, you must greet our wonderful friends, the Duke and Duchess of Holyhead!"

"Duchess Rodmilla," Hermione said stiffly as she inclined her head once more. "And Duke Rodden... you should both join us for lunch again one day."

"That would be splendid," the Duke chimed as he finished shaking the King's hand and beamed at Hermione, though the Duchess harrumphed and stuck her nose in the air before walking away.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and as she did, she spotted Tom in the corner of the room. He smirked at her, but not in an uncomplimentary way. She gave a quick half smile before the King swept her off to meet more of their guests.

Hermione began to feel overheated as all she saw were a whirl of pearly smiles, flashy ballroom gowns, sparkling jewels, military uniforms, and suits of high ranking royalty. She felt like she was in a circus where royal husbands paraded around their wives and female guests in a show of who had more jewelry and gems or the most snobbish demeanor. A sick feeling was settling in her stomach, and all she wanted was a little air and maybe a drink. Her wishes were granted when someone spoke to her from beside her.

"You look parched, dear Princess. Here, have a drink," Porthos offered as Hermione turned to him while trying to hide her disappointed expression.

"Thank you," she said, taking the drink and wondering if it was safe. '_I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to poison me right here in the ballroom_.'

He watched; waiting for her to take a drink. So she contented his probing gaze by raising the small, golden goblet to her lips, yet she didn't drink as she made it appear she had.

"If you'll excuse me," she said to the King and Porthos as she moved away from them. "I feel some fresh air is in order." She nodded to them as the sapphire-eyed boy opened his mouth, obviously ready to offer his company. "I'll join you again shortly after I freshen up," she added to cut his offer short.

She turned and left, giving Riddle a quick, pointed look from the corner of her eye as she passed him. He joined her by some long tables which held many small types of appetizers and drinks for the guests, though most were preoccupied with mingling so they were partly to themselves.

Just as Hermione was about to speak to Tom in hushed tones, someone called out to her from behind.

"Well, if you aren't a sight for my sore little Romanian eyes," a girl stated rather loudly.

Hermione turned around and watched as the girl approached. She was a rather pretty girl with long, dark hair which hung to the center of her back in flowing curls. Her dress, one of a lustrous ruby color, made her dark eyes seem all the more twinkling. She smiled in a warm, friendly way as she pulled Hermione into a gentle hug.

"It's so nice to see you... I haven't talked to you in over half a year," the girl said.

Hermione stared at her while trying to get some clue as to her name or something, but there was nothing on the golden earrings or golden chain around her neck. The only clue as to her rank that Hermione could find was a small, ruby studded tiara on her head.

"You don't mean to tell me that you've forgotten me so quickly?" the girl asked in a somewhat amused way. "I know it's been a while, but you've got to remember your best friend."

Hermione bit down on her lip and shook her head.

"Boy... that baker's son really got your head all messed up," the girl sighed incredulously. Hermione was surprised with her speech; she seemed out of place in this time period. "How can you forget me?" she asked, still unbelieving. "You know," she stated in a bored, exasperated tone. "Iemima Amariei... Romanian Princess of Austria," she drawled, still sounding bored. "Mima... something's got to ring a bell here."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. "Yes! I just didn't recognize you."

Hermione pulled her into another hug, reciting her name over and over in her head to remember it so she wouldn't make a fool of herself again. '_Mima. Mima. Mima_.'

"So... who's your friend?" Mima asked as she gestured to Tom who was watching the exchanged between the two girls.

"Oh, him? Well, this is Aramis-"

"And I'm Arthos," said Tom's military acquaintance as he stepped forward and took her hand in his, brushing his lips across her knuckles as he went. "Thought I had lost you back there for a moment there, Aramis," Arthos added as he bowed away from Mima who cocked her eyebrow at him in an amused way. "So, when will the merriment begin?" he inquired as he turned toward the crowd.

"Right about now," Mima replied slyly as she looked from Hermione to Tom and grinned. "You two should have the first dance together."

"No, thank you," Riddle declined quickly.

"Then you won't mind if I take the Princess's first dance, then?" Arthos asked as he bowed past Riddle to Hermione before taking her hand and leading her to the center of the dance floor.

"Now why on earth would you let someone else step in on you like that?" Mima questioned him lightly.

"I did no such thing."

"Well, I don't believe it's you out there dancing with that boisterous, friendly, lovely Princess, now is it?" she countered. "So, let's me and you take the first dance and get something straight." Before Tom could protest, Mima had him out on the floor in a waltz-like dance. She was graceful, light on her feet, but he was quick to keep up with her after stumbling only on the first few steps. "I hear you rescued my wonderful friend from that evil baker's son," she laughed.

"Uh... yeah," he lied; unable to think of what else to say as he tried to keep up with her steps and search for Hermione on the floor.

"So the word is that you take quite a fancy in her," Mima continued to interrogate effortlessly.

"And so what if I do?" Riddle challenged before he knew the words slipped off his tongue.

"Nothing... just make sure she's happy and well taken care of," the Austrian Princess shrugged as the song ended, and they switched partners.

Tom looked to the girl in his arms and expected to see Hermione as Mima went whirling away with Arthos, but it wasn't so. It was someone he didn't even know, and as Riddle looked for Hermione, he felt slight worry set in. '_In a room this big, she could be with anyone, stuck in a situation much worse than she was with that Princess Mima_,' he thought.

He stopped dancing and narrowed his eyes as he spotted her. She was twirling around the floor with Porthos, one arm snaked tightly around her waist and the other holding her hand tight. '_Time to put him out of his misery_,' Tom mused as he walked up and tapped Porthos on the shoulder.

"If I shall be so bold as to cut in," Riddle remarked.

"No, I-," Porthos began, but turned his back on Tom as he and Hermione danced. At the mere mention of 'no', Riddle felt anger bubble beneath the surface. "Don't think you will," Porthos finished when he was once more facing the dark haired Aramis impostor.

A fire flared in Tom's eyes as the blond whisked Hermione away through the dancing couples across the floor. He clenched his fists and stalked away, passing Mima and Arthos.

"Where's Anastasia?" Mima called after him, but he gave no answer.

"That can't be good," Arthos mumbled as he began looking for Hermione.

"There she is," Mima said with a nod in the other girl's direction.

"And I can see why Aramis is mad," Arthos concluded.

"Why?"

"That's Porthos that the Princess is dancing with... right evil prat who's always trying to step on the toes of Aramis to try and get to the Princess and impress the King," Arthos explained.

"Well, then," Mima sighed, "let's put a stop to it, shall we?"

"What?" Arthos asked in surprise as Mima walked up to a blond haired girl.

"Hi," Mima greeted politely. "I just thought it kind of me to let you know that that boy over there - Porthos is his name – was talking about how he adores you earlier this evening to myself and my friend. He talked of nothing more than how he wanted to dance all night with you and only you and how the beauty of the Princess was nothing compared to yours."

The blond looked shocked at first, but then a grinned spread upon her face as she gave a giggle and bound off toward Porthos who had just split from Hermione.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked, a little breathless.

"Oh, nothing," Mima chuckled. "Just hoping our Heavenly Father forgives me for a small, white lie which is all in the name of love."

At that, Hermione exchanged looks with Arthos who gave a half-hearted smile and shrugged his shoulders.

"Where's Aramis?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.

"Well...," Arthos began as he scoured the floor for him, "I'm not entirely sure."

"Fine time for him to run off... I need to speak with him," Hermione grumbled.

"Oh, no need," Mima supplied sheepishly.

"What? Why?"

"I already did."

"And what did you say?" Hermione quizzed.

"Oh, just that I thought he was a nice guy and that he had better treat you right," Mima admitted.

"You didn't," Hermione begged, an exhausted expression on her face.

"I'm afraid I did," Mima confirmed. "Why?"

"I don't like Aramis like that."

"Then you both have a funny way of showing feelings," Arthos interrupted.

"What?" Hermione asked, turning to him.

"Well, Aramis is always watching you. He gets dead jealous of any guy when he comes around you," Arthos admitted.

"And I saw the way you were looking at him when I first approached you tonight," Mima added.

"Is it that obvious?" Hermione questioned, a bit worried.

"Yes," Mima and Arthos answered in unison.

'_Oh, no_,' Hermione thought as she stared at the highly polished floor. '_I can't believe this is happening. I'm letting stupid feeling show... and they're getting in the way. Everyone sees it. This has to stop, or else we'll never get back to the future like we planned._'

"I talk with you later," Hermione muttered to them quickly. "I have to go find Aramis." With that said, she rushed off to search the room for him.


	20. Troublesome Clothes & Terrible Surprises

**A/N:** Thanks to the following lovely reviewers: _Silver Tears 11, hanvu, nehimasgift, ellamalfoy8, Natsu-no-Hinagiku, hippychick21, the tofuubeaver, svelte, pottersgirl91, Shadows08, _and _Barry-bob-jnr._ To you all, I give Chapter 20...  
**

* * *

Chapter 20 – Troublesome Clothes & Terrible Surprises**

Hermione had roamed all over the room in search of Tom, but hadn't even found the slightest trace of him. She was beginning to think he Apparated somewhere after she met back up with Mima and Arthos, who brought no news of him either.

"Where could he be?" Arthos asked as he scanned the room.

"We asked every young officer in this room," Mima sighed as she grabbed some drinks for her and Hermione.

"I even went so far as to ask the Duke and Duchess of Holyhead as well as my father," Hermione said while taking the drink.

"Has anyone thought to check outside?" asked the Austrian girl before sipping her drink.

"Why don't we do that?" asked Arthos as he tilted his head. It was apparent that he was feeling uncomfortable in the warmth of the room in his uniform.

"Sure, let's go," Mima agreed.

The threesome left the room, thankful to get out into the corridor where things were a few degrees cooler and a little less noisy, though voices still carried from the room. They made their way toward the front doors when a thought occurred to Hermione.

"You two go on ahead. I've got two more places to look," she informed before turning off down the corridor at the end of the hall.

Mima and Arthos continued on outside as Hermione went to a rather different looking door. One with cravings. She opened it and set her eyes upon the cage before her, smiling a bit to herself as she saw a dark figure on the bench in the center of the enclosure. She approached, the sound of her heels on the floor louder than before in the quiet room. The only other noise was of the breathing from the two of them. Not even the wings of the butterflies were heard as Hermione entered the cage. Tom didn't bother to look up as she took a seat next to him, watching him as he rolled a rose between his thumb and index finger.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?" he mumbled.

"I wasn't trying to make you jealous or angry... I didn't even want t-"

"Jealous? Angry?" he repeated in an incredulous laugh, cutting her off. "Is that what you think I am?"

"Well, why else would you leave?" she pointed out.

"Because it's all I could do to keep from strangling that prat, Porthos," Riddle said as a fire glittered in his eyes. He grabbed the rose, one fist closing around the stem tightly, and crushed the white petals in the other hand. The petals hit the ground slowly after floating to the floor like soft, silken, white confetti. He let go of the top, letting the remaining petals drop one by one from his hand to the floor.

Hermione noticed red dots hitting the floor where the petals lay. Like red rain, blood from Tom's hand splashed down and landed on the floor and the white petal pieces.

"Stop," she commanded, a hint of worry in her voice as she stood and grabbed his hand. She pried it open, taking the stem from him and discarding it on the ground. She laid his hand atop her own, his hand open and facing upward. Little dots were randomly placed on his fingers and palm and leaked red tears; weeping for the pain they were in.

Hermione looked around for something to wipe the blood away with, but could find nothing. She then lifted the hem of her skirt and pulled her wand from the ribbon she had tied to her leg. Picking up a torn petal, she transfigured it into a soft, cotton handkerchief and began wiping away the blood. When she was finished, she tied the handkerchief to his hand and looked up and locked eyes with him. Visions of daring knights on white stallions danced in her head as he returned her gaze.

"Come along," she whispered, pulling him toward the cage door by his wrist. "Let's go up to my room so I can clean this up properly."

Tom followed her as far as the door, music from the instruments of the band drifting into the once silent room. He stopped her by rooting himself to the spot, and when she turned to see what was keeping him, he pulled her into a dancing stance. Her brow furrowed, and she went to speak, but stopped as he began slowly spinning with her on the spot. With the door slightly ajar, there was no chance of disruption, no chance of being seen, so he made a bold move. He pulled her closer. His arm was now reaching to her opposite hip as he drew their cupped hands in closer to his chest.

She watched with daze and slightly confused eyes as he did so. Her breath caught in her throat when he leaned down, his breath hot on her ear and neck. She closed her eyes to try and keep from shivering as something dropped in her stomach. Her knees felt weak, and it was all she could do to keep from falling as she leaned against him. She felt his cheek move against her own; a sign that he was smiling. She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, the two of them now swaying lightly on the spot. He stroked his hand up and down her spine gently, his touch rousing something in her, and that something she knew was a deep compassion for the moment they were sharing.

'_What am I doing?_' she suddenly wondered as she realized that she was slipping under his metaphorical spell. How could someone grow on her so greatly in only mere seconds? '_That, my dear, is a simple answer_,' remarked a voice she felt was like her own, but not her own. '_They can't... this has been growing for some time, and you know it. There's no use trying to ignore it anymore; you're not the only one who knows it._'

The music had stopped, and so had Riddle, which woke her from her little daydream. She pulled back and looked up at him, eyes shining brightly. '_Don't do this. You need to get to work on getting back to the future_,' she thought to herself.

"Tom, I think we shou-"

"Shh," he cooed, brushing his knuckles gently across her cheek. "C'mon." He led her from the butterfly room and up the stairs to her own room. Once inside, she shut the door and leaned against it.

"Good, now that we're alone, we should work on our plan to get back to the future," Hermione commented as she walked across the room to her wardrobe.

"Is that all you think about, Granger?" he chuckled lightly from behind her as he shut the door to the closet as she started to open it.

She could feel his breath upon the nape of her neck, so she turned around and found herself face-to-face with him.

"Tom," she said firmly, "I think this is getting entirely out of hand. This needs to stop; we're losing sight of what matters most, and that's getting back to the future!"

Her scolding seemed to not phase him though as he ran his knuckles softly down her cheek once more and placed his hand on the back of her neck. Her breath faltered some at the contact, and her brain screamed for her to get away. She slipped to the side, backing away from him toward the balcony. He grinned slyly and followed her slowly, his air becoming more cocky as she found herself trapped on the balcony. She looked over the railing of the balcony, sighing in desperation as she realized she was now backed in a corner with nowhere to go. Riddle was now before her, his hands reaching out for her hips. She pressed herself against the railing, hoping against hope that he would realize at the last minute she was right about things.

She closed her eyes and bit at the inside of her bottom lip as she gripped the railing of the balcony. His fingertips just brushed the fabric of her skirt when there was a knock at her bedroom door.

"Anastasia!" yelled the King from the other side of the door as Tom jumped and whipped around. He ran for the lattice, hanging there as Hermione ran back into the room and sat down at her vanity.

"Come in," she called to the King.

"What are you doing, my child?" he asked as he entered the room.

"Just freshening up," she replied quickly before picking up the lid of a jar which held powder.

"Very well... but be quick about it. There's a young man down here looking for you. Porthos is his name, I believe," the King informed as he walked across the room toward the balcony. "He wishes to dance with you."

Hermione's eyes became wide as she realized that he would surely see Tom who was still hanging on the lattice. She jumped up and went after him quickly, grabbing his arm and trying to steer him back toward the door.

"What's wrong?" he asked as she stood in front of him.

"You know, on second thought, Father, I'm feeling rather tired. I think I might retire for the night. Will you relay my apologies to all and tell them thank you?"

"I uh... I suppose, my dear," he sighed with apparent disappointment that she was turning in so early. With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Hermione hurriedly ran out onto the balcony and saw Tom climbing back over the railing.

"Do you see?" she asked a little heatedly. "It's only going to get harder and harder for us to work together, so let's take advantage of the time we have right here."

He seemed to not hear her as he stared at her, a serious expression on his face, though it wasn't a hard one. In fact, she found it hard to read and found herself even more confused when he stepped forward and grabbed her hands in his own. He squeezed them and then let go. She hadn't even time to look up when he stepped closer and placed his hand on the back of her neck.

When she did finally look up, he cupped one cheek in his hand and leaned down to her. His lips brushed hers, and she grabbed his forearms softly. His lips parted from her own a moment too soon for both, but Hermione pushed kissing him again from her mind as she tried to protest once more.

"Tom, ple-"

The rest of her plea was lost to both of them as he kissed her again. She watched him; her eyes open as they kissed. She saw something on his face at that moment as he stood there with his eyes closed, and his lips upon hers. She had never really seen this look on his face, or saw him express an emotion remotely like this before.

He looked happy. Truly happy. She closed her eyes quickly as tears came to them. Hermione felt lighter than a feather in that moment; she was the reason he was so happy. It made her feel so good to know that she brought someone, especially someone like Tom, happiness such as the one on his face.

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed back delicately. Once more, they were lost in time, but not in a bad way. It was the kind of lost feeling that everyone wants to feel; the kind that leaves your knees weak and butterflies in your stomach. The kind of lost sensation that you can only share with someone you care more deeply for than anything in the world.

And no one would know just how deeply Tom and Hermione cared for each other. No one except two other people that is. Those two people who stood watching at the corner of the castle, smiling at the scene before them as though it was an act from _Romeo and Juliet._ Mima giggled quietly as Arthos gave a soft snort of laughter. He grabbed her hand and led her back toward the front doors, letting Hermione and Tom have their privacy.

* * *

The next day, Hermione was roused by the sound of the King's booming voice carrying in from outside. She jumped up and almost fell over her shoes from the night before which had been discarded next to the bed. She ran to the balcony, peeking outside to see the King greeting the Duke and Duchess who were getting off a carriage. 

"Oh no," she sighed to herself as she slumped against the wall and rubbed her face in her hands.

She walked over to her vanity to begin getting ready when she saw something that made her smile. Riddle's uniform jacket was hanging on the back of her vanity chair. She sat down, pulling pins from her hair so she could brush it. She gasped as she looked up into the mirror though and saw him still lying in her bed. She spun around in her chair and stared at him as he hugged a pillow to him. She giggled and turned back to the mirror, picking up a brush and stroking it through her hair. She sighed after a while and rolled her eyes as the brush began getting caught. Laying it back down, Hermione looked through the vanity drawers for her wand. Finally finding it, she closed her eyes and began charming knots from her hair. When her locks were once more their wavy, slightly bushy selves, she looked up into the mirror and was a little surprised to see Tom sitting up in bed, his eyes upon her in somewhat groggy scrutiny.

"You should probably get going before someo-," a knock at the door cut her off though. Her eyes grew wide as he threw the covers up over his head. "You can't hide there," she hissed as she came over and pulled him from the bed. There was another knock, and Hermione began looking around the room frantically. "In here," she said as she opened the wardrobe and shoved him in. She closed the door, leaving it cracked as she went to answer the knocking.

"Good morning, Princess," Mary and Janessa chimed in gleeful unison as they entered the room with some of Hermione's freshly pressed dresses.

She cocked a brow at their cheeriness; it was even greater than usual. She smirked and remembered seeing them with two military guys the night before.

"Your father is expecting you downstairs in a-," Janessa began, but stopped as she and Mary looked at something Hermione couldn't see.

"What is it?" Hermione asked as she walked up beside them.

The two of them were staring at Tom's jacket on the back of her chair and his boots beside the vanity. Hermione's heart skipped a beat as they turned to her with surprised expressions.

"Have you... had-," Mary tried.

"That is to say, Princess, with all due respect, but have you been-"

"Did you have a gua-"

"It's not what you think," Hermione began slowly. "I haven't had anyone in my room... doing anything of the sort that's on either of your minds."

"Then why are those in your room?" asked Janessa.

"You see," Hermione began slyly, a tad unsure of what to say. "I was outside last night with Aramis... and it was chilly, so he gave me his jacket to wear."

"But why are his boots here?" Mary inquired.

"Your father would sure go on a rampage if he saw these," Janessa pointed out.

"Oh, please don't tell him. Those boots are only here because Aramis uh... well, he took them off because they were hurting his feet, and he left them in my room when he walked me up here."

"But your father said that you turned in early last night."

"I had. It was after my walk with Aramis. The King just missed those," Hermione lied.

Mary and Janessa exchanged unsure looks before nodding slowly.

"Very well," Janessa sighed.

"Anyways," Mary muttered. "The King is awaiting you downstairs in the study with the Duke and Duchess of Holyhead. You're to have a luncheon with them and Princess Mima."

"Thank you," Hermione said as the two passed her and headed towards the door. They left, and the door to the wardrobe creaked as Tom pushed it open slowly, peeking out while he did. "I think you should probably take your things and leave before they say something to the King, and he comes up here," she informed.

"Good idea," he agreed with an uncertain nod as he grabbed his boots and put them on. "I um... I guess I'll see you tonight, then."

"I guess," she mumbled as he tossed his jacket over his arm and headed for the door, but stopped.

He walked back across the room and kissed her cheek, making her close her eyes. The door shut, and she opened them, a lone butterfly fluttering about in her stomach. She sighed and gathered up her things to go take a bath.

* * *

When Hermione entered the study downstairs where the King and their guests were waiting on her, she felt eyes of judgment fall upon her. The Duchess sneered at her from a seat in the center of the room at a table where the King and Duke were conversing. 

"Ah, good morning... or should I say afternoon?" the Duke laughed as he stood up with the King.

"Anastasia," the King beamed. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to join us for lunch."

"It's awfully rude to keep your guests waiting," the Duchess scoffed.

Hermione saw Mima roll her eyes as she walked up to her.

"Hi," she greeted as the King told them they would be having lunch in the garden after a walk around it.

"Hi," Hermione replied. "How was last night?"

"Wonderful," Mima giggled. "Arthos was a complete gentleman, and we danced the whole night before he walked me to my carriage and bowed while kissing my hand." Mima's face held a dreamy expression as the King called to Hermione.

"Anastasia," he said, "I've invited along another guest. Porthos will be joining us since he didn't get to dance with you last night as he wished."

Hermione fought hard not to grimace as she nodded jerkily while the blond soldier made his way across the room, all eyes on him and his arrogant smirk.

"That bloke has been giving me dirty looks since I was escorted into the room this morning," Mima whispered.

"A different young man? What happened to that Ara- what's his name?" the Duchess barked.

"They're but friends," the King whispered to the Duke and Duchess. "I can hope of no marriage to come of it. Besides... Porthos is an upstanding young man who shows great interest in my Anastasia."

The Duchess nodded as Porthos bow slightly before her and complimented her. Hermione and Mima made gagging gestures before the foursome turned to them and suggested they go for their walk around the gardens.

The Duchess led the way on the arm of the Duke, the two of them almost not fitting out the door together. They were followed by the King and Porthos with Mima and Hermione leaving last. As the girls exited the room, they spotted Tom at the front door with Arthos. Riddle wore an expression of malice as he glared at Porthos and then shifted his eyes to Hermione. She gave him an apologetic look as he held the door for the party of six.

"I smell trouble," Mima said after a smiling exchange with Arthos.

"Me, too," Hermione sighed as they walked down the steps and out into the sun, but they really had no idea.


	21. Just A Little Sabotage

**A/N: **Thanks to all of the following for reading and reviewing: _hippychick21, Silver Tears 11, ellamalfoy8, HPluvagrl, Natsu-no-Hinagiku, nehimasgift_ (hope ya didn't mind me using 'Porthos the pig' in the chapter)_, the tofuubeaver, san01, Charming-Lynn, bumblebee115, hanvu, BlackRosePoison-Orchid, pottersgirl91, Setsuna Bu, _and_ svelte_(thanks for lending me 'snotty little oinker' lol). Now, enjoy...

* * *

**Chapter 21 – Just A Little Sabotage**

Tom watched as the party of six made their way to the garden path while his eyes trying to burn a hole in the back of Porthos' head.

"Snotty little oinker, he is," Arthos muttered as he too watched after them.

As though on cue, Porthos looked back over his shoulder at the two of them who were still standing at the castle's front doors. He smirked and narrowed his eyes with arrogance, making Tom's blood boil.

"Where are you going?" asked Arthos as Riddle started after the party.

"To wring that little pratified arsehole's neck until he chokes to death," he growled, feeling a long forgotten hatred fire up within himself.

"Whoa! Not a good idea," Arthos pointed out, grabbing his companion's sleeve and patting him on the shoulder. "At least not with witnesses around."

Tom exhaled heavily in frustration; as much as he hated to admit it, Arthos was right. But just as he went to turn away from the gardens, something came to his mind. '_Are you a wizard or not? In fact, your destined to be the most powerful one for years to come – you are right now even._' Tom looked up from the ground with a malicious grin.

"I'll see you around, Arthos," he muttered before racing into the castle. He ran down the hall to the empty study and peered about. The coast was clear, so he pulled out his wand and cast a charm over himself. He felt the sensation of an ice cold egg being cracked on his head. It ran down his body, and he soon found himself Disillusioned.

Grinning already from what little handy work he had performed, Riddle made his way out into the gardens. '_Even if I can't wring his neck right now, I can most certainly be an unseen force_,' he chuckled inwardly as he walked around the corner of the castle and examined the gardens, spotting the group of six chatting and making their way though the maze of knee-high bushes. Gravel crunched under his feet as he jumped the shrubs and pursued the group, but he didn't worry about it. They were making far too much noise for him to ever be detected, or so he thought.

"Did you hear that?" Mima asked Hermione in a whisper as they looked back over their shoulders after a particularly loud shifting of gravel caused by him.

"Hear what?" Hermione lied; for she too had heard it and had a hunch what it was. '_Just don't let him do anything stupid to get caught!_' she pleaded with some unknown god above.

Tom smirked. So Granger was willing to cover for him? This would make his execution all the more simple.

He jumped the bushes once more, now standing in the grass as he crouched down and let a mischievous grin dawn his face. He moved swiftly along the bushes, careful to stay out of sight. When he was about five feet ahead of the group, he pulled out his wand and waited for Porthos to get closer. Riddle wondered what he could cast upon the unsuspecting git, then it struck him. He waved his wand and muttered an incantation, trying not to chuckle cruelly as Porthos' face screwed up as though something were in his eyes. Then, without the slightest hesitation, the blond sneezed greatly onto the back of the Duchess who shrieked and began complaining to her husband to wipe off the saliva.

Tom's eyes moved to Mima as she began giggling, but she soon gasped and ducked as Porthos sneezed again, this time almost getting Hermione in the face.

"Here, here, m'boy," Duke Rodden boomed as he pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to the young man who covered his mouth while sneezing another six times.

"Do you have allergies?" asked the King.

"Not that I know of," Porthos replied.

"Well, those kinds of things can start at any time in your life," the Duchess sniffed.

The blue-eyed soldier nodded, and the King suggested that they continue their walk so that they may finish quickly.

Tom rocked back on his heels and snickered as he got up. Staying low once more, he ran up ahead for a second time and glimpsed a rather large bee on a rose. He gave a malicious chortle from deep in his throat as he shook the flower that the bee sat on. Taking flight, the bee buzzed in an annoyed way before resting once more on the pink rose. Again, Riddle shook the flower and flicked the bee so that it buzzed louder and zipped about the rose bush. Unluckily for Porthos, the bee was out for revenge upon whoever was disturbing him, and it just so happened that Porthos would be the one the bee attacked.

Trying to be a gentleman, Porthos walked up to the bush and picked a fully bloomed rose for Hermione. It was an unwise decision as the bee darted for him, landing on his forehead and injecting a stinger. The blond howled and rubbed his forehead profusely as Mima stifled a giggle at the idiot boy's antics.

Tom found that he was quite enjoying this as the King suggested that they head back to the castle so Porthos could be tended to. Sensing his chances to ruin things were turning slim, Riddle rushed ahead of the group, almost tripping over a root and rock sticking out from a bush. This didn't anger him though; it only gave him an idea.

Enlarging a rock ahead of the group, Tom watched as the Duke and Duchess passed the trap, yet Porthos wasn't so lucky. He tripped and stumbled forward as the Duchess and Duke sidestepped to get out of his way. On the way to the ground, Porthos grabbed frantically for something to steady himself on and grabbed onto the Duchess' bosom. She gasped, appalled by his actions and whacked him on the head with her fan.

Snorting with laughter, Riddle cast a Silencing Charm over himself as he burst into side splitting laughter. '_That's too good not to try again_,' he thought to himself as he got up off the ground and brushed away any dirt that might be on his back. Moving over to the castle, he rushed along the wall and crouched. Readying himself for Porthos' approach, Tom grinned, his heartbeat picking up a bit. Then he noticed something. Behind the horses on the Duke and Duchess' carriage was a prop to make his trickery even more pleasurable. Levitating the large, steaming pile of horse dropping over to the walkway, he positioned it so the blue-eyed guard would have a chance of stepping in it.

As the group of six came ever nearer, Tom held his breath and held out a leg to Porthos who was on the right end of the four in the front. Glad his Silencing Charm was in place, he began snickering already. But a flaw fell upon his plan. Porthos dropped back to walk beside Hermione and Mima, putting him out of Riddle's leg's range.

Refusing to let this happen, he aimed his wand at Porthos' legs and bound them together at the ankles. The young man teetered and began hopping, getting even closer to the horse droppings. Then the worst happened. He became unbalanced and fell forward, his face landing directly in the pile of dung Tom had placed on the walk.

Riddle roared with laughter, but he couldn't be heard. Hermione stood aghast as she saw Tom's spell break, the white rope retracting from Porthos' ankles. Mima doubled over with laughter, pointing at Porthos and slapping her knee. The Duchess wrinkled her nose and shook her head as the Duke and King rushed over to help Porthos up. They picked him up, grimacing at the smell as the blond frowned deeply. They ushered him into the castle, and as they did, Hermione walked over to where she had saw Tom's spell disappear. She kicked him so that the toe of her pump came in contact with his shin. He yelped and grabbed his leg before standing up and following them into the castle.

* * *

After being cleaned up and having the stinger from the bee removed from his brow, Porthos joined the others for lunch in a sun room. He took a seat across the table from Hermione, the King to his right, and the Duchess to his left. Once the meal began, he tried to engage Hermione in conversation, but she would only give short, emotionless answers before chatting with Mima. 

Tom entered the room while still under his Disillusionment and observed the first part of the luncheon with watchful eyes. He was willing to sit back and behave now that he had his fun. That was until he saw Porthos do something completely barbaric. The boot the blond had been wearing lay discarded under the table, and his foot was making its way up Hermione's leg. Her eyes grew wide when he came to her knee, and she kicked him in the shin on his other leg. He clenched his jaw and glared at her, but she only cocked an eyebrow and went back to talking to Mima who gave Porthos an uncertain, yet disgusted look.

As the main part of the meal came in, Riddle watched the server set each bowl down in front of everyone. When the server came to Porthos, Tom pulled out his wand and took aim on the bowl. It slid away from the server's hand and landed in Porthos' lap, spilling its hot contents. The future Dark Lord's eyebrows shot to his forehead as the sapphire-eyed soldier jumped up, making the server jump back. A gasp escaped everyone as the youthful guard swore and tried to wipe the mess away.

"What foul language!" the Duchess scoffed.

Porthos looked ready to throttle her, but changed his expression quickly as he gave a small bow.

"My apologies, madam. Please excuse me while I go change," he said with forced politeness. He exited the room, and Tom gave a throaty chortle. He proceed to get up and walk across the room, laying his hand on Hermione's shoulder. Her eyes grew enormously, and she covered her mouth quickly with her napkin as she coughed.

"Something wrong?" Mima asked in concern.

"Hot," Hermione gasped quietly as she pointed to her bowl.

"That's why you should let each spoonful cool before slurping such a large bit down," the Duchess remarked from her seat across from Mima.

"Doesn't look as though you do," the Austrian Princess said in a little less than a whisper.

Hermione pressed her lips together and averted her eyes to her bowl as Mima continued to eat, a small smile in place. It was then that Tom whispered to Hermione.

"How's lunch coming along?" he asked in her ear.

She swung her clenched fist backward, hitting him in the thigh.

"Anastasia?" the King acknowledged with a furrowed brow.

"My elbow started to cramp," she supplied quickly.

"Such an awful lie," Riddle muttered, his nose in her hair. He breathed in and continued to speak, "And be careful; you almost hit the royal jewels."

Hermione's eyes bugged once more, and she felt the spoonful of soup in her mouth go down thickly. He chuckled silently as Porthos entered the room, a fresh pair of military pants in place of his old ones.

"Watch this," Tom instructed in her ear before walking around the table.

Porthos pulled out his chair and prepared to sit, unknowing that Riddle had grabbed the chair and pulled it back some. Porthos landed square on his bottom upon the floor, making Mima give an unexpected snort of laughter. The young man glared at her, and she only proceeded to place her elbows on the table, lace her fingers together, and rest her chin upon them while smiling cheekily.

"A lady should never put her elbows on the table," the Duchess administered.

Mima looked as though she was about to say something when Hermione spoke up.

"Oh, look... the rest of the meal," she announced.

Sure enough, more servers came in and took the bowls away to place an elegant roast of some sort on the table and begin serving them.

"Not too much," the Duchess said as the server came to her. "Oh, a little more... just a tad more," she concluded, making the server look at her in disbelief of the heap on her plate.

Tom laughed and slapped his knee from a chair next to a rather large, sunny window. Hermione looked up toward the sound, looking just left of his head. He waved, knowing she couldn't really see him.

As the group began eating, he got up and walked around the table, running a finger across her shoulders from right to left. She shivered involuntarily before shifting slightly in her chair to cover it up.

"Should I do something more?" he asked quickly in her ear as he walked away.

She tried to make a grab for him, but was unsuccessful as he skirted her and returned to his chair by the window.

"What was that for?" Mima asked.

"Stretching," Hermione answered as she gave a fake yawn behind her napkin. "Just so tired still from all that dancing and stuff last night."

"I didn't see you dancing with many people though," Porthos commented. Hermione glared at him for a split second before opening her mouth to say something, yet she was cut off by him. "In fact, I believe you went to bed early, did you not? I mean, that is why I'm here at lunch with you today," he pointed out snottily.

"A fitful night's sleep is all I had I'm afraid," Hermione said vehemently.

"Fitful, or none at all?" Porthos quizzed cockily.

Riddle had been relaxing in his chair, one leg hanging over the arm of it, but that comment made him sit up straight. Had Porthos seen something, or was he just being a pompous jerk?

"I noticed that Aram-," Porthos stopped here though as he began coughing.

He covered his mouth with his napkin and began hitting his chest with his fist to clear his throat, but to no avail. Tom had his wand pointed at the other boy, and was, of course, the reason he began choking, for Riddle had lodged food in the his throat.

"My Lord, son," the Duke said as he and the King stood, concern on their faces.

The King began patting Porthos on the back, and it looked as though the young man was going to be sick. Hermione, sensing that Porthos was going to suffocate, pulled out her wand and cast a spell from under the table to remove whatever was choking him. When he suddenly spit up an unchewed chunk of the roast, Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief. But that wasn't the end of the troubles, not by far.

The piece of food which had been dislodged from Porthos' throat landed in the Duchess' hair, causing her to squeal. Her squeal sounding like a scared pig, and that made Mima begin to laugh. She quickly covered her mouth with her napkin to keep from laughing out loud as the Duke knocked the piece of roast from the Duchess' hair. The saliva covered chunk of food then fell into the Duchess' bosom, losing itself down the front of her dress. She shrieked and jumped up, hitting Porthos directly in the groin with her chair's arm. He doubled over with a loud groan as Tom roared with laughter, all the while thanking his brilliance of quickly casting another Silencing Charm on himself in that split second as he snorted. Hermione, discerning the place where Riddle as seated from the cast spell, aimed her wand under the table at his chair by the window. It toppled, and he spilled to the floor, yet he was still chuckling as he groaned and got up.

Everyone but Hermione jumped at the sound of the chair tipping, but the King blamed it on a faulty leg. Tom left the room, sniffling and wiping tears away as he admired his brilliance.

"Excuse me, please," Hermione said as she noticed a tapestry move when Riddle passed.

Once out into the hall, Hermione hissed his name. When he didn't answer, she said it again. Taking the Silencing Charm off, Tom spoke just to the right of her, making her jump a little.

"What are you trying to do?" she demanded venomously.

"Let's discuss this up in your room," he suggested, "before someone thinks you're loony for talking to seemingly no one... or worse, someone hears me and makes mention that you were talking to voices without a body."

Hermione stalked past him, pushing him back as he bumped into her. He shrugged and followed her up to her room where he dropped down onto the bed, recalling the scene he had just caused.

"Now tell me what the bloody hell you were on about down there!" she commanded as she looked about the room.

Tom removed the Disillusionment Charm from himself and snickered one last time as she came storming over to stand in front of him.

"I was only having a little fun with Porthos the pig," he chuckled while remembering how Arthos had called him a 'snotty little oinker'.

"A little fun?" Hermione repeated in an incredulously scandalized tone.

"Okay, so it was a little sabotage," Riddle admitted.

"For what? Why?" she fired, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Because that arse deserved it for... well, being an arse," Tom replied, getting a little annoyed with her displeasure of his antics.

She was completely frustrated with him. More than that even. She pointed at him, one hand on her hip in a very Mrs. Weasley-like way. Her mouth opened and shut and then opened again. When she shut it for the second time, she grunted with aggravation and picked up a pillow. She whacked him over the head with it, messing up his hair.

"Hey!" he barked as he stood up from the bed. "What was that for?"

"Because you deserved it for being an arse," she said as she mocked him and his previous remark to her question of why he had attacked Porthos.

She hit him with the pillow again, feeling some vexation flee her body. She took yet another hit, and a fourth one even. He jumped back, glaring at her as he commanded her to stop. She didn't listen though as she hit him once more in the face. He yanked the pillow from her grasp and hit her in the side of the head with it, making her gape in a scandalized way.

"That was uncalled for!" she accused.

"Oh, was it really?" Tom asked as she whipped around and grabbed another pillow and began beating him in the arm with it.

"Grow up!" she demanded when she stopped.

"You started it!" he retaliated as he hit her once more. "So you first."

Hermione stamped her foot and whacked him around the waist with the pillow, earning her a hit in the arm with his pillow.

"You're so stupid!" she snapped as she dodged another swing from him.

"And you're too uptight and bossy!" He swung again, leaving an open spot for her to hit him upside the head.

"You're insufferable!"

He hit her. She hit him.

"Like you aren't!" he barked.

Another blow to each. The madness continued for at least another ten minutes, and by the time they finished, their hair was frizzy and sticking up all over the place. Both were red in the face, and feathers lay about the area around them. They were both breathing heavily and glaring at one another.

Hermione dropped down on the bed with a huff, but just as she did, there was a knock on the door. She looked to Riddle in alarm as he stood rooted to the spot, his hands on his head where he had been trying to smooth back his hair. There was another knock, and the knob of the door began to turn as Hermione shot up off the bed and stood, shocked and gaping with Tom, unsure of what to do.


	22. A Holyhead Vacation

**A/N:** First off, let me apologize for the _extremely_ long wait on this chapter. It's just that college and other miscellaneous things have been consuming my time. Not to mention a visit from a much hated, muse-killing, enemy called Writer's Block. Gives me the collywobbles just thinking about it. ((shiver)) Anyways... onto the expression of appreciation.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed in the last chapter: _the tofuubeaver, pottersgirl91, Ezeldia EnimiesEntwined, Autumn's-Smile, ellamalfoy8, Silver Tears 11, san01, nothingmatters, nehimasgift, hanvu _(twice, my friend, how'd you do that, lol)_, hippychick21, Shadows08, pyromaniac102, Charming-Lynn, SoMe wEirDo, Skavnema, NightAtTheRoses, bumblebee115, nina-luvs-mnms_ (the peanut or peanut butter kind per chance?)_, LandUnderWave, PhanPhic-adict, .o0Aurelie0o., lily1121, _and last but not least _dragondolphin1990_.

Thank you so much all of you! I never tiring of typing all those names at the beginning of each chapter because it gives me such joy to know that you've all taken the time from your busy, precious days to read something that was partly from the mind of yours truly. (Exclude canon characters and the like. I own nothing but the plot and some charries.)

So I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as the last. ((wink))

* * *

**Chapter 22 – A Holyhead Vacation**

Hermione rushed over to the door.

"Just a minute!" she yelled as she tried to hold the door shut. "Hide!" she hissed to Tom.

He ran for the wardrobe, but saw that he couldn't very well hide there; things were entirely too cluttered unlike last time. He whipped around, his eyes darting about the room as another knock issued on the door and made Hermione jump away from it.

"Under the bed," she ordered urgently as she rushed over and made him drop to the floor.

He was laying on his stomach, prepared to slide under the bed as Hermione shooed him when someone cleared their throat. Riddle froze, wishing to appear invisible.

"What _are_ you lot doing?" asked Mima with her brow cocked as she stood just inside the door with Arthos at her side looking both amused and a little surprised.

"Um... well, you see-," Hermione began.

"She lost her-," Tom cut in.

"Conta- hair pin!" Hermione finished.

"Lost your _conta_ hair pin?" Mima repeated in a disbelieving manner. "Uh-huh," she nodded slowly. "And I suppose you lost it while you two romped the bed?"

"Yes. I mean! No! No!" Hermione recovered.

"Absolutely not," Riddle added as he stood up and brushed feathers from himself.

"Then would you care to tell us how the pillows exploded all over the room and why you both look so disheveled?" Mima quizzed.

"Yes, do tell," Arthos teased as the other couple flushed a bit while gaping like fish.

"It was purely an accident-"

"And a complete misunderstanding," Tom butt in on Hermione for the second time in two minutes, which earned him a glare from her as she brushed stray hairs from her face.

"An accident and a misunderstanding?" Arthos repeated, sounding unconvinced.

"You had to be here to understand," Hermione assured him.

"I've known you for quite some time, Ana. You can't lie to me," Mima supplied. "I won't question you any further on the matter though," she added a moment later. "But I will ask you to join Arthos and I. We plan to go horseback riding on the trail behind the castle."

"Absolutely," Hermione answered. "Coming Aramis?"

"Sure," Riddle replied stiffly.

* * *

"I don't think that this is the time to be gallivanting through the forest on horseback," Tom hissed at Hermione as they rode behind Mima and Arthos who laughed and chatted animatedly. 

"And what else should we be doing?" she snapped quietly.

"We _should_ be back at the castle trying to figure out a reversal spell to send us back where we belong," he said.

"Yes, me back to my time, and you back to yours," she retorted dryly before cantering ahead to ride next to Mima.

Riddle rolled his eyes and rode up next to her. They trotted on in such a manner until the sun was setting, and they were deep enough into the forest that it would take them until the moon was out to return to the stables. Hermione and Tom were starting to feel stiff from riding for so long, and it seemed that Mima and Arthos themselves were getting tired and hungry.

"Should we maybe head back?" Arthos suggested as he watched Mima stretch, and Hermione yawn.

"Certainly," the Princess of Austria agreed as she urged her horse into a brisk trot.

"Maybe we should let the horses stop for a drink," Hermione suggested as she pointed to a stream which was just visible through a thicket of trees.

"We should," Mima nodded as she patted her horse's neck and turned it toward the stream and galloped forward.

Arthos laughed and galloped up behind her, the two of them laughing about something Tom and Hermione didn't quite understand. Shrugging, Riddle rode forward and paused at the trees as Hermione struggled with her horse.

"What's the matter, Granger?" he asked as Mima and Arthos splashed about in the stream.

"It doesn't want to go," she replied, uncertain of what to do.

"Here... we'll trade then." He jumped down and walked up to her horse, grabbing the reins before helping her down. She walked over and took the reins of his horse, leading it to the stream and stroking its mane as it drank. He, on the other hand, was pulling and gritting his teeth as he drug Hermione's horse to the stream. "Something's... wrong with... this... _thing_," he grunted as he gave a tug with each pause, finally getting the horse to the stream where it looked about frantically, tossing its head.

"Want some help, Aramis?" Arthos asked as he tethered his own horse to a nearby tree.

"Um... no," Tom replied as he watched the horse finally drink from the stream. "I just don't know what was wrong with it."

"I'll take it back," Hermione said, handing him the reins to his steed and grabbing the other leads from his hand.

Moments later, they were on their way back to the trail as the last rays of the sun were shining through the far off hills that surrounded the vast valley in which the kingdom set. As they rode, Hermione began to drift in thought, her head bowed as she pondered what Harry, Ron, and the others were doing back home. For once, she laughed inwardly as she thought about getting back to the future and telling them that she had been a princess. Would they ever believe her? They might; after all, this was the wizarding world and anything was possible.

Up ahead, Arthos moved a branch back for Mima, letting it go as Tom took hold and passed by himself.

"Watch it," Riddle called politely over his shoulder as he let the branch go.

Hermione looked up just in time to see the branch springing toward her. She gasped and threw up her hands to block her face, but was knocked from her horse which became spooked. The horse rared back, and its front hooves came crashing down on the ground next to her, yet she didn't notice. Tom whipped around, turning his horse quickly and moving swiftly back to where she lay on the ground. He jumped down and crouched beside her as her horse took off along the trail into the depths of the forest. He cradled Hermione into his arms as Arthos and Mima came riding up. Mima sat wide eyed with shock as her soldier friend jumped down and walked over to where Riddle knelt.

"Is she breathing?" asked Arthos.

"Yes," Tom replied. "I think she's just fainted."

"We need to get her back to the castle," Mima commanded urgently. "Before a fever breaks, or worse even."

Arthos handed Mima the reins of his steed and helped Tom lift Hermione up onto his horse with him. Once they were securely into the saddle, Riddle broke out into a gallop, not looking back as the other two raced after him. He pulled on the reins as they came up the castle drive. Gravel ground under the shooed hooves of the animal as it put its hind quarters closer to the ground in an attempt to obey the order. After skidding several feet, Tom leaped down and pulled Hermione from the horse. Cradling her in his arms in a bridal fashion, he moved as quickly as he could which wasn't too fast seeing as he was tired and weighed down by her body. He burst through the front doors with the help of Arthos and Mima, the three of them scaring some nearby servants.

"Fetch the King," Mima ordered one of them as they others helped Tom carry Hermione up to her room.

Once there, she was laid upon the bed, and a nurse was brought in along with the King, the Duke, Johnalin, and three soldiers.

"What has happened?" demanded the King in a tone of outrage. It was the first time Tom had seen the King in such a manner, and Riddle knew to never underestimate anyone so he remained quiet and calculating while Mima stepped forward and spoke.

"We were riding along the forest path-"

"And I held back a branch for her," Tom broke in, "and before I could do anything, it slipped from my hand." It wasn't the complete truth, but close enough to it.

The King asked no further questions of them as he turned away and toward the nurse who was sitting on the bed dabbing Hermione's cuts from the branch with a wet cloth.

"Any damage?" asked the Duke.

"None too serious," answered the nurse. "She'll need a night or two of good rest and some ointment put on these cuts. That seems to be all."

"Does she have a fever?" asked Johnalin, though Tom still eyed him suspiciously; this was the first time he had seen the tutor around the castle in a long time.

"No. No fever... just a slight bump above her right eye," the nurse informed. "I'd say she'd be safe to leave the bed in at least another two days if you keep giving her some of the tonic I have downstairs."

"I'll see to it that she does," Tom interrupted. Everyone's eyes turned to him, and he felt compelled to explain himself, which was something he hadn't really experienced before. "I feel responsible, so I'll care for her," he commented.

"T'wasn't really your fault, boy," said Duke Rodden through his thick mustache.

"And it's not proper for you to care for her," sneered Johnalin. "That's what her ladies in waiting are for."

The King, however, remained silent as he observed Riddle.

"I think it's a grand idea... and I, myself, will help," Mima offered. "That will eliminate your feeling of worry and impropriety as well as put two more careful eyes upon her health."

"That settles it, then," the King nodded. "Come... she needs her rest."

Johnalin was pushed from the room by Rodden who was followed by the King and the three soldiers. The nurse was the last to leave, informing them that she would have dinner sent up to the four of the young people as well as the tonic she had spoken of earlier.

* * *

Hermione awoke to see that the sun had barely risen. She turned over in the semi-darkness and snuggled under her goose down blankets. That's when her eyes landed on Tom. It seemed to her that she had awakened like this a lot lately. But this time, he was sitting in a chair, his chin resting on his chest. His shirt was unbuttoned slightly, and his boots were tossed on the floor before him. 

She sat up, prepared to wake him because she knew that he would have a cramped neck, and that's when she spotted Mima. She was asleep on a divan, her hands clutching a small pillow to her chest as her head laid on the arm of the couch. She was covered over with a large, red blanket, and a book lay on her hip.

Hermione slide to the edge of the bed, her feet dangling just above the floor. She watched Riddle for a moment and saw him stretch before giving a quick shiver. She grabbed a blanket and tossed it over him as the door to her room opened. Turning around, she saw Janessa and Mary entering the room, one of them carrying a bucket of wood, and the other holding two bed pans for hot coals.

"Good morning, Princess," said Mary as she sat down the bucket of wood beside the dying fire. "Feeling any better?"

"Yes," Hermione said as she walked around the bed to stand beside them.

"You still shouldn't be out of bed," Janessa said as she grabbed a fire stoker. "You'll catch cold or something."

"The nurse maid did insist that you get plenty of rest," Mary agreed as she put more wood into the fire which was beginning to come back to life as the other lady in waiting stoked it.

"Oh, I'm fine now. It was just a little fall from a horse, and I'm feeling good as ever," she assured them.

They said nothing as they looked at each other and shrugged. Mary walked over to the couch and sat a bed pan of coal near it so the heat would emanate toward Mima. The other was slid under Hermione's mattress.

"Breakfast should be served in another hour," Janessa informed.

"A nice, warm, and hearty breakfast would do you good," Mary pointed out.

"Thanks," Hermione said as they both curtsied and left the room.

Hermione turned and looked to Tom. She pondered him for a moment before deciding that she would dress and go to the library until breakfast.

* * *

She had spent a little more than an hour in the library. She had even started to nod off when she finally decided that she should go to the dining hall. Standing, she laid her book on the table and stretched before leaving. When she entered the dining hall, the King occupied the head of the table, Mima to his left, and the Duke to his right. The Duchess, Tom, or anyone else was nowhere to be seen. 

"Ah, good morning, my darling daughter," the King beamed. "Feeling much better?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

Mima tapped the seat of the chair to her left, and Hermione followed her gesture by taking the seat. She had barely began to tuck into breakfast when the King announced something to her.

"My dear," he began, "I feel that things have been... _awkward_ for you since you've gotten back home." Hermione said nothing as she returned his gaze in an faultless manner. "So, I've arranged with the Duke and Duchess for us to join them for a week in Holyhead."

"All right, but just so you know, I feel fine. There's no need to take yourself away from the duties of the kingdom at my expense," she commented before returning to her breakfast. Then something occurred to her, "Where is the Duchess?"

"She took an early return home," the Duke replied while sounding slightly annoyed by his wife and any mention of her. "She said that she missed being there and that she felt that her presence was needed back at our mansion."

Hermione gave a curt bow of her head before tucking into her breakfast. She had hardly gotten a bite into her mouth when Tom, who looked rather disheveled, came jogging into the room.

"Have you seen-," he gasped urgently before laying eyes on Hermione. "Oh."

"Good morning, Aramis, m'boy," the King greeted, eyeing Riddle from top to bottom.

His uniform was put on in a haphazard style with his jacket merely slipped on and unbuttoned. His boots had been just placed on his feet without even being laced, and his hair was messed. His face styled red marks of his sleep manner with the imprint of his knuckles on his cheek, and his white undershirt was partially untied at the collar and somewhat twisted under his jacket.

"Won't you uh... join us for breakfast?" the Duke asked with a hard fought chuckle.

"Rough night?" Mima asked with a polite smile as the youthful, dark-haired man crossed the room to the chair next to Duke Rodden.

"Must have been," remarked Rodden.

"Well, it was well worth it," the King spoke up. "Just look at my Anastasia! She's feeling good as ever."

Tom smiled politely toward Hermione before bowing his head and beginning to eat.

She saw some slight bags around his eyes, which gave them a sunken look. He was tired, and it was very apparent. She nudged his shin with the toe of her shoe, and his eyes shot up to her; quick with the reflex of concern. She mouthed the words 'thank you' to which he showed no expression, emotion, reaction, or otherwise. Unsure, she turned her attention back to her breakfast. If only she had known that he had felt personally to blame for her fall. This was his reasoning because he had been the one holding the branch, and the one who let it go. He felt that he should have held it a bit longer and maybe then she would have passed unharmed. But he hadn't done that.

So after Mima had slipped off to sleep, he had gotten out his wand and healed her as best he knew. Without potions it hadn't been that easy, but he had ensured that any headaches would be prevented or ridden from her. He had also made sure that no ruptures had came to her internal workings. That had taken a great deal of energy from him, placing him in his now drained and tousled state.

He was slow to finish his breakfast as he tried to pace himself so that he finished exactly as Hermione did. His plan worked, and they both left the table together. Although just as they reached the door of the dining hall, the King called to her.

"Anastasia... you should pack your things. We'll leave tomorrow with Rodden," he informed.

"Yes, Father," she answered before leaving the room.

"Pack your things?" Tom repeated once they were in the safety of the deserted hallway.

"The King plans to take me to Holyhead for a week," Hermione explained. "Don't worry though. I'll insist that you accompany us."

"Granger," he said as he grabbed her gently by the elbow to stop her before she started up the stairs. "I'm not worried about being left behind here; I'm worried about what kind of delay this will put on our workings."

She seemed to think about this for a moment before speaking.

"I think a small break will do our brains good," she advised.

"A small break?" Riddle hissed before she could say anymore. "We've been taking a small break ever since Meg-," he stopped as hurt flashed on Hermione's face. "I'm sorry... Maybe you're right. We'll go."

She just bobbed her head for a moment before turning and going up the stairs. He hesitated, which caused her to stop halfway up and look back at him.

"Aren't you coming?"

He said nothing, but simply climbed the stairs to join her as she continued on. It had seemingly become custom that they accompany each other everywhere, even within the castle. Tom wasn't sure if that was such a good idea, but for now he would make no argument.

"You know," she said suddenly in a thoughtful fashion as they reached the door to her room. "There's a Quidditch team in Holyhead." A half smirk broke on her bemused face. For once, she was thankful for Ron and Harry's Quidditch nonsense.

"Yeah, so," Tom shrugged, not quite getting the point. He had never liked Quidditch; it seemed barbaric and time wasting to him. And that was something he had sort of liked about Hermione, that she too disliked it. At least she appeared to have not liked it. However, he thought wrong. '_Guess that's what I get for assuming_,' he mused to himself.

"So," Hermione repeated as she got an emphatic expression to both her voice and face, "that means there are more witches and wizards there."

Riddle had finally caught on, but he didn't know if he liked it.

"We can't go telling every witch and wizard that we see that we're from the future, and we need their help," he scolded. "You should know that."

"I'm not saying we should," she quipped.

"Then what's your point?"

"That where there are magical people, there's bound to be some sort of magical community or connections to it," she stated in a know-it-all, matter-of-fact way.

Maybe that fall was just what she had needed. It had obviously knocked some sense into her. '_Maybe I should take a little tumble from a horse_,' Tom thought in an amused fashion as he smirked at the possibilities of what she had just pointed out.


	23. Arrival in Holyhead

**A/N:** Wow, has it been a long time or what?! Anyways, time to say a great big thanks to all you who have stuck with me through this and reviewed Chapter 22: _.o0Aurelie0o., bumblebee115, LandUnderWave, nehimasgift, Skavnema, Silver Tears 11, dreamer1516, Lolaleddir, LaNi-GoLDfiSh, Schermionie, o0Dreamer0o, like-clockwork, dragondolphin1990, Ezeldia and Mildelra, pottersgirl91, googlebear _(Your name reminds me of Monster's Inc. where that girls calls Mike Googly Bear, lol.), _bigmamatree, Shadows08, Lh4ever, arushi, _and last but certainly not least _svelte_!

Thanks so much everyone, it means a great deal to me that you keep faith in me and keep coming back no matter how sucky my updating skills are becoming. Chapter 24 shouldn't be as long of a wait, but I promise nothing because I'm not entirely sure what will pop up tomorrow and get in my way. Ya know? Anyways, without further ado... the chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 23 – Arrival in Holyhead**

"It's beyond me why you need so much stuff," Tom grumbled as he drug Hermione's trunk down the stairs.

They had slept restlessly the night before. He had sneaked up to her room, and they had sat all night talking about how they were to get help once they reached Holyhead.

"It's beyond me why you haven't lightened it with magic," she spoke softly. "And besides, I normally don't take that much stuff, but those two upstairs came in and started throwing things in the trunk."

By those two, she of course meant Mary and Janessa, her ladies in waiting. They had insisted that Riddle wait outside, so he went out and sat on the balcony while Hermione chased them fruitlessly around the room. She had tried to get them to leave so that she could pack, but they just kept at it.

Tom stopped on the stairs and pulled out his wand. With a swift wrist movement, the trunk lit up momentarily. He then grabbed one handle, and Hermione took the other. The pair descended the stairs with much more ease now and at a much faster pace. Once at the bottom, they were greeted by the King who was standing with the Duke at the front door of the castle.

"Anastasia... it's about time."

"Sorry, Father," Hermione excused as Rodden ushered them out the door. His mouth moving rapidly under his mustache about his home and all that they could do there.

They boarded the carriages with the foursome in one, Hermione's ladies in waiting and Johnalin in another, and much to Hermione's dismay, Porthos and the General accompanied by a few more soldiers in yet another. She stuck her head out the side door window and waved to Mima who was standing at the front door with a few servants of the castle.

Arthos raised the step on the carriage and nodded his farewell before stepping back. The coaches lurched into motion, and Hermione felt anticipation fill her completely as they passed the castle gate.

* * *

Hermione looked on in awe as they pulled up to the castle. They had traveled for two days, stopping only long enough to eat and let the horses rest. To finally be at the castle was such a relief, but awe was replacing the relief as she stared on in wonder. 

The castle was quite a towering feature. At least four stories high and with spiked turrets. The walls made of white brick and white marble trimmed in a bronze tile. It looked like a pop-out from a fairytale book Hermione had read as a child.

She leaned forward more to peek out the window of the carriage, causing the seat to shift. Tom snorted and slouched in the seat before sitting upright and glancing alertly to Hermione. He had dozed off during the trip while the King and the Duke had conversed or played a complex game with chips and cards.

"We're here," she whispered.

"Just as grand as I last remember it," the King spoke as he too looked out the window.

"It was what my wife wanted... so it was her wedding present," the Duke sighed as he wiped his brow and bristled his mustache.

The carriage came to a stop, and Hermione waited as he descended the coach steps. He was followed by the King and then Tom who helped her down.

In front of the castle at the large, bronze-colored front doors stood the Duchess with a small fluffy white dog in her arms and another of brown and black barking loudly at her feet. Riddle grimaced at them and then looked to Hermione who shrugged.

"She has a rather large, ugly rat of a fluffy state in her arms," he whispered to her as they neared the Duchess who exchanged a stiff peck on the cheek with the Duke before turning to the King.

Hermione giggled silently as the black and brown dog began growling at Tom. He glared at it as the Duchess greeted Hermione with the same stiff manner she had the Duke. The Duchess then looked to Riddle who snorted with disgust as the dog barked and took a step forward, trying to intimidate him.

"I see you've made it a point to tag along, so you should know this," the Duchess addressed him. "Should the Princess happen to fall ill or anything, you won't need to stay with her. You'll have separate quarters on opposite sides of the castle."

Tom just smirked. Hermione knew that smirk by now though. She could also see the wheels turning behind his deep, dark eyes.

'_If this overblown, sad excuse for royalty thinks that she can stop me from going to Granger's room by putting the distance of the castle between us_,' Tom mused to himself, '_then she's terribly mistaken._' His smirk became a broad, cheeky grin as he followed the party inside. He had been ready to step up and across the door's step when the black and brown Yorkshire barked loudly and sunk its teeth into his pants' leg. Riddle glowered at he dog, shaking his leg, but to no avail. Hermione stopped and looked back as he stepped inside the door, continuing to try and shake the dog off. The Gryffindor stooped to grab it, but it growled, and the youthful Dark Lord gave one final, hard jerk of his leg. His pants came free, and the dog went sliding across the highly polished marble floor past the King and Duke, neither taking notice. The dog came to a spinning stop next to the Duchess who bent down and grabbed the dog as she coo sickeningly to it.

"Horrid little beast," Hermione muttered to Tom as she watched him fix his pant leg.

"The Duchess is by no means _little_," he added.

"I wasn't talking about her," the Hogwarts Head Girl laughed as they caught up with the group of Rodden, Rodmilla, and the King, all of whom were headed to a sunny room just off the main entrance hall.

It must have been a luncheon hall because it wasn't quite as large as any of the rooms in the King's castle, but it was lavishly decorated. Golden statues of angelic figures spotted the four corners of the room and every so often on the wall, there was a painting of a royal family member. Hermione spotted one that looked something like the Duchess and was surprised to see that it was in fact Rodmilla.

She was young in this picture. Her hair a long, shiny ebony sheet that cascaded over her shoulder. She wore an elegant pink gown with white lace and ruffles. On her lap sat a regal looking Yorkshire Terrier of a gray color. Her expression was stern, just the same as always, but Hermione had to admit that she was sort of pretty.

"Surprising, isn't it... that she was once skinny?" Riddle mumbled as he walked up beside Hermione.

"Tom!" she sibilated as she turned away. Her eyes flowed across the rest of the room. There were dining chairs painted gold with white cushioning, and a banquet table by some high windows. Golden dishes glimmered in the sunlight as steam rose from their sides. Upon each end of the table was a tea set, and Hermione then realized that they must be having a small lunch of appetizers.

"Please help yourselves," the Duke urged politely to the room as he gestured grandly to the banquet table.

The Duchess was the first in line, cutting Tom off as she mumbled something about ladies first. He had been ready to retort with the comment of 'guests first' when Hermione placed her hand over his mouth. The two frowned deeply as the Duchess picked up small cream covered cakes and let her dogs each eat from them.

"Remind me to skip dessert," Riddle uttered to Hermione who tried to avoid where the Duchess had been with her dogs.

"Only if you tell me what _that_ is," she remarked as she pointed to an olive green concoction in a gold pot.

"Bubbling liquid death," Tom joked in a bored tone as a bubble rose to the surface of the putrid thickness. Both were momentarily shocked by his lax in serious mannerisms, but let it go as Hermione finally snickered at his comment while the Duke approached and answered her seriously.

"It's creamy spinach soup. A delicious and warming lunch," he beamed.

"I think I'll have something else for now," Hermione spoke politely as she passed by Rodden and headed for the end of the table to get some tea and examine a tray of orange, pink, and yellow colored pastries.

* * *

Riddle wandered down the hallways of the castle with his eyes casting over statues, paintings, vases, sculptures, and other artworks. His boots clicked across the intricate, polished marble with a demanding authority. The sound echoed and resounded throughout the corridor, making it impossible for him to sneak up on anyone. He was just about to go downstairs when he heard someone hiss to him. He turned around and spotted Hermione a few feet away. She was peeking around a door and motioning for him to join her. He shrugged, looked around, and did as he was requested of. Once inside the broom closet, she began whispering to him. 

"I suggest that we leave first thing tomorrow morning before sunrise so that we can have the proper amount of time to look for any sign of wizarding activity," she plotted.

"Why so early?" he objected. "Don't you like to sleep in?"

"We haven't the time... Being back in this era is making you lazy," Hermione scolded. "We need to be able to get back before lunch which is when they will notice that we've gone missing."

"Fine then... I'll meet you in your room at four sharp," Tom commented as he grabbed the handle of the closet.

"You don't know where it is. And how are you supposed to sneak across the castle without waking someone?"

"Being back in this era has made you stupid," he stated, mocking her earlier comment of him being lazy. "Are you a witch or not?"

The comment caught her off guard. Ron had once barked that same remark to her. She frowned and nodded causing Riddle to shrug it off and open the door. As they emerged, someone cleared their throat loudly. Hermione and Tom stopped dead as their hearts leaped into their throats. The two were almost fearful of turning around and coming face to face with the person who had caught them.

"Princess. I've been looking for you," Johnalin announced. "Only the Lord above would have guessed that I would find you in a... _broom_ closet with a young officer of duty."

"Looking for me?" Hermione repeated as she turned to face him with blush creeping about her face. "Why?"

"You might have skipped out on your lessons back home, but you won't do the same here. Now that you're relaxed and settled enough to be on a vacation, you should also be relaxed enough to study. The Duchess has most graciously lent us her music room and the use of her family's private library, so come with me."

Hermione didn't answer. She only watched with distaste as Johnalin turned on his heel and set off down the corridor. Hermione followed, Riddle pausing for a moment as he pondered what to do. Shrugging, he started after the pair with his boots resuming their loud sound off.

Johnalin stopped and whipped around. His face full of displeasure as he thrust a finger in Tom's direction and spoke rigidly.

"Off with you! You are not welcome to join!"

"And you are a rude, idiotic-"

"Off with you!" Johnalin yelled once again.

A door a short way down the corridor slammed open, and the Duchess, followed by her two dogs, came storming out.

"What's all this shouting about?" she burst. "I'm trying to take my afternoon rest, but how can I with all this racket?"

"My deepest apologies," Johnalin sniveled as he spun around into a sweeping bow. He took the hand of the Duchess and placed a kiss upon her knuckles, which gave the younger pair a sick feeling in their guts.

"You're forgiven. I'm sure it's not your fault anyways, Lord Johnalin," the Duchess replied with what Hermione could only guess was her trying to smile sweetly.

Johnalin remained bowed over and simply rose his head to look directly at the Duchess with a curt smile. The Duchess turned as her dogs skipped off behind her, back to the room she had emerged from.

"Now be off with you, you stupid boy," Johnalin growled. "Besides... the General will want to see you shortly."

"About what?" Tom hissed. He hated Johnalin just as much as the General and Porthos, so any mention of one while in the presence of another was most displeasing to Riddle.

"I don't know about what, boy," the tutor snapped. "Just leave."

"I'll speak with you later," Hermione assured her companion in a soft tone before nodding her approval for him to leave.

He grit his teeth and turned stiffly before stomping off down the corridor, sure to make extra noise.

* * *

"No! Again!" Johnalin demanded as Hermione sat at a harp looking annoyed. 

"This is so stupid," she grumbled as she placed her hands on the strings and straightened her back.

"Play," he demanded as he circled where she sat on a cushioned stool.

She drug her fingers gently back across the strings, which caused a melodic sound to emanate from them. She moved her hands back to the front of the string and plucked a row once more, which made a sound of sweetness, but not the one Johnalin wanted.

"What kind of music do you call that?" he demanded. "It sounds like no sound I've ever heard, or would ever care to hear again."

Hermione clenched her jaw and fought back the urge to stand up and kick him in the shin. She slouched on the stool and crossed her arms in a fit. She wished now that she was in the library.

"Why don't we do something like history or geography or literature or _anything_ like that?" she questioned.

"Because a well rounded young lady isn't only book smart, but polite and musically inclined."

"Not this young lady," she retorted quietly while looking away from the teacher. "We've been at this for at least two hours. Can't I move to another instrument or go to the library and continue this tomorrow instead?"

"Fine, fine," Lord Johnalin grumbled. "Move to the piano."

Hermione rose quickly with the speed of someone who was glad to be away from something very disgusting, in her case, the harp. It wasn't as easy as to play as it had looked when her mother used to do it. As she sat down on the bench before the piano, she wondered what everyone was doing. Then a thought hit her. Would time be standing still as it were when one used a Time Turner or not? And then she wondered once more if anyone even knew that she was missing if things were in fact still in motion.

"Begin," Johnalin said as he walked to the window and stood with his back to Hermione.

She pulled out her wand from her sleeve and charmed the piano to play a suitable song.

"This sounds like Antonio Salieri's _Armida_," Johnalin noted, sounding somewhat pleased.

Hermione smirked triumphantly as she mimicked the movement on the piano keys and making it appear that she was playing it herself. She normally hated cheating with her studies, but this wasn't truly a study to her. Should she wish to learn to play later, then she would ask her parents to pay for lessons or possibly try to teach herself. For now though, she needed to think about getting to Riddle and finding the wizarding community of or around Holyhead.

* * *

"I've taken the liberty of going into town earlier and setting up a stake out with a few men," Porthos whispered to the General as they hid beside the King's carriage. 

"Did you pay them now?" asked Mardon. "I specifically said not to until the job was done."

"Of course not, Father," Porthos stated. "Do you take me for an idiot? I only paid them a quarter of the sum to assure that they would be there and waiting for us when we came through."

"Good, good," Mardon muttered. "Now, we just have to make sure that no one else jeopardizes us getting to-"

"What do _you_ want?" Porthos barked as he walked around the carriage to face Tom.

"Johnalin said that the General wished to speak with me," he sniffed.

"That I did," Mardon growled. "Away with you, Porthos. Go see that the horses are being tended to."

Porthos nodded and did as he was told with no complaint. Once he was out of earshot, the General rounded on Riddle and began telling him off.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, boy," he grumbled, "but you had better just knock it off this instant."

"I'm certain I don't know what you mean," Tom said coyly.

"You know perfectly well what I mean!" the General half roared. "What do you mean by tagging along with the Princess every turn she makes? Are you trying to ruin me?"

"Surely my actions can't ruin you."

"They most certainly can. I want this stopped immediately. Word has it that the Princess has taken a liking to you, and I can't have you doing something to her or jeopardizing my line of men for your little love affair. Do you hear me?" Mardon snarled in the younger man's face as he jammed a finger in Riddle's chest.

"I'm just doing my duty and protecting the Princess."

"Your duty doesn't extend to staying over night with her!"

"I felt personally responsible for that," he retaliated, "and that's why I stayed with her that night."

"I've heard of other nights and other such encounters that displease my ears, boy," Mardon warned dangerously. "Stop it! I'm warn you. I command you as your ranking officer. Cease this nonsense right now and don't let me hear of it anymore."

"Oh, you won't," Riddle replied sneakily, "you won't."

He wasn't going to truly let General Mardon scare him into staying away from Hermione. Tom knew that the older man just wanted him away from Hermione so that Porthos could make it appear as though he and Hermione got along. Riddle knew that they were trying to get the King to marry her off to Porthos, and it wasn't going to work as long as Tom was around. He had plans to stick around quite a while and see to it that the son of the General didn't get anything that he wanted. In fact, Tom was still planning to meet Hermione before sunrise tomorrow morning. He also planned to tell her that he overheard Mardon and Porthos making plans of some sort. And, in fact, he was going to find her right that second to inform her of the latter.

* * *

Later that night, as the group sat at dinner, Hermione was stuck between the King and Tom while there was talk about all sorts of things. But it seemed that among the conversations, the Duchess was getting no satisfaction. She sniffed and rolled her eyes constantly as Hermione and Riddle kept quiet and listened to the talk of past battles and ones that might come in the future. All the while, Mardon bragged about his troops. Porthos in particular. Suddenly, the Duke spoke up about something totally different. 

"I say, young Porthos, your General speaks highly of you. I'd like to see if you can handle a rifle as well as he says. You should accompany us on a hunt," Rodden invited as he gestured to himself and the King.

"Why yes! Aramis, too," the King chimed in. "Mardon, you'll have to follow along so that you aren't left here with the ladies."

"That sounds like a terrific idea, your majesty," the General nodded as his blond-haired son smirked evilly.

Hermione suddenly got a horrid feeling in her gut. Something was going to go wrong, and she knew it. The look on Porthos' face had just told her so.

"Father," she spoke up, "I wish to accompany you as well."

"Now, Princess," the Duke chuckled. "A hunting party is no place for a lady."

"How inappropriate," the Duchess huffed, speaking up for the first time during dinner.

"I don't care!" Hermione challenged. "It's not fair that I'm left behind to... _study_!"

Hermione could barely believe that she was objecting to studying, but then again, studying with Johnalin wasn't exactly the kind of learning that she had in mind. It wasn't truly important to her. If she had her way, she wouldn't be here much longer, so what use could she have of the knowledge he was trying to supply her with.

"How like your mother you are," the King sighed with a wistful smile that was full of fondness. "Very well," he consented a few moments later after seeming as though he had recalled a particularly cherished memory. "But you must promise to stay under the care of your escorts."

"Meaning myself," Tom spoke up with a grin on his face as he looked to Mardon and Porthos who both glared back with overbearing hatred in their burning eyes.

"When shall we have this hunt, then?" the King questioned as he turned to the Duke. "I have so missed the days when I used to hunt fox and fowl and other such game."

"Let us go the day after tomorrow. I think it will be a fine time," Duke Rodden informed.

"Yes, a perfect time," Mardon agreed with a manic gleam in his eye that went unnoticed by all but the Gryffindor Head Girl and her Slytherin heir friend.

Hermione and Riddle exchanged worried sideways glances as both knew that this probably had something to do with the discussion between father and son from earlier.


	24. Billywigs & Horned Slugs

**A/N:** Ergh! I didn't update early like I wanted! Oh, well, here's the update and my thanks to everyone who reviewed: _Autumn's-Smile, pottersgirl91, ellamalfoy8, LandUnderWave, o0Dreamer0o, Shadows08, Lh4ever, .o0Aurelie0o., Ezelsia and Mildelra, Silver Tears 11, TamX2, Lolaleddir, nehimasgift, arushi, Charming-Lynn, dreamer1516, san01, Skavnema, googlebear, The daughter of Slytherin, PhanPhic-adict, _and _ValorOrgulloso._

Hopefully writer's block doesn't hit me now that I'm on break and can finally write. Chapter 25 should be along not too long after this one... a week or so from now. Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter 24 – Billywigs & Horned Slugs**

Hermione rolled over in bed with her eyes moving rapidly below their lids. Tom stood observing her. His eyes were narrowed in the dim light of his wand that was cast over them. She tossed, and one of her many pillows dropped to the floor with a soft thump. She thrashed and kicked away the sheets, exposing bare, creamy legs. Her face contorted in pain, and her breathing was heavy. He reached out a hand to shake her by the shoulder, but stopped as she gripped the sheets around her and whimpered. He too felt his breathing change. He knew she was having a nightmare, but he didn't really know whether to surprise her by waking her or let her sleep through it and wake on her own.

She moved once more in a quick jerk to her left and shook her head back and forth. She was beginning to make more and more noise. Riddle could now see a sweat breaking on her forehead. She gasped and called a name, but he couldn't quite hear it. He leaned closer with his eyes still narrowed as his ears strained to hear. He was only about a foot or so from her now as she shivered and gasped again. Then he heard her call the name.

"Tom... Tom."

He felt something freeze him in place just as suddenly as a curse. His legs felt almost numb, and he couldn't move as he felt his brain go into disbelieving awe. Did she really just call his name?

'_She most certainly did_,' he thought as his eyes darted about her face, which was still expressing panic, fright, and maybe even pain. '_But why?_' Was he the one inflicting pain on her in the dream? Or was he being called out to by her in hopes that he would stop the pain? Either way, he never truly got to find out as her eyes snapped open, and she gasped again.

"Tom!" she sighed in relief. She was near tears as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

He was surprised by this and still unable to move as she buried her face in his neck. He felt something arouse in his torso, and he had the uncontrollable urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her to him until she was calm. So he did just that.

Sitting down on the bed, Riddle wrapped his arms gently around her lower back so as not to scare her. He then pulled her to him so that he could feel her heartbeat against his own chest. Cradling her, he reached up in an uncertain way and stroked her hair while breathing in the smell of honey and strawberries from her. He had closed his eyes, but only for a second before opening them again as she moved away from him. She took a steadying breath and avoided his gaze as she climbed out of bed and moved across the room. She grabbed a dress that was folded and laying on top of her trunk while he stood and turned his back so she could dress quickly.

Not a word was spoken between the two as she slipped on some shoes and then came to his side. It was as though the two were embarrassed about what had just occurred, but there was nothing to be ashamed of. Moving swiftly and quietly, they left the castle and headed to the stables, which were in a wooden building just to the left of the front drive. Once there, they encountered two whispering voices.

"I know them," Tom whispered to Hermione in referral to the pair of voices.

The future Dark Lord and his Muggle-born companion moved into a stall to hide in the darkness where they would go unseen as they listened in.

"Take my horse, ride into town, and alert those men that there's been a change in plans," said one gruff, commanding voice.

Hermione recognized it as the voice of the General, and she could only guess who the second was.

"What shall I tell them?" asked Porthos.

"That they are to stay in town today instead of trying to catch that old fool here at the castle," Mardon explained. "Make sure to inform them that they need to be in the woods tomorrow by nine sharp so that they can track us for a while. I want this job done right."

"Yes, Father," the young blond replied obediently before mounting his steed with a jingle of the reins and a creak of the saddle.

The hooves of the horse clopped out of the stable, and Mardon followed with a dim, orange light accompanying him.

"I think it's safe," Tom murmured once the glow of the lantern was gone.

Emerging, he and Hermione were quick to grab two horses and leave the stables. They wasted no time in mounting their rides, though Hermione was a bit slower in her dress. Once ready, they set off at a quick trot for the town that was about two miles south of where the Duke's castle was.

Once into the town, they found it pretty much deserted except for a baker who was working in his shop behind steamy windows, and a smith who was stoking the fire for the day's metal work. Tom sniffed the air; the smell of bread baking filled the surrounding area. It was warm and inviting, which made his stomach rumble.

"Can't you put a Silencing Charm on that?" Hermione asked, somewhat surprised by his abdomen's outburst. "You're going to wake the whole town."

"I didn't eat this morning, and no matter how much you think I can control my stomach because it's apart of me, I can't," Tom retorted as they dismounted on a side road.

Fog drifted along the brick paved streets, hiding their feet beneath its blanket of grayish smoke.

"Where should we go to first?" Hermione asked as she looked up and down the road.

They had never really thought out what they would do once they reached the town that morning. It was becoming more apparent to them that they were getting more and more careless, which made Tom slightly irritable, and Hermione worrisome.

"See any places that look a little strange?" Riddle inquired as he too observed the street. "Kind of like things do in Diagon Alley... You know... the shops windows and such."

Hermione wandered from one small street to another while leading her horse behind her as Tom meandered along a feet few away. It didn't take them more than about twenty minutes to find a place that they suspected of belonging to a witch or wizard. But something stopped them. The building was quarantined because of suspicion of the small pox virus.

"Small poxes, bah," Riddle said as he cupped his hands around his eyes while pressing his face to the glass.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "We had better get away from here. It's highly contagious and terribly hard to rid yourself of in a time period like this where medicine is limited due to lack of knowledge."

"It's not _small_ pox," he whispered as he pointed to something inside the shop. "It's _dragon_ pox. Look at the ointment bottle on the counter... Careless being... anyone could spot that and be highly suspicious."

"Then let's hide it for them," she said as she shook her wand down out of her sleeve.

"No!" he sibilated as he made her lower her hand. "Best not to... we don't need to trip any magical alarms."

She nodded and slipped her wand back into its hiding place before they went around to the back of the building.

"There's got to be more around here," Riddle muttered to himself more than the Gryffindor with him as he examined the back entrances to buildings near the one they had just left.

"Tom, we can't go much further with these horses," the Hogwarts Head Girl grunted as she tried to pull her horse. It had found a busted bag of oats sitting behind a supply shop and was busy trying to resist Hermione's coaxing so it could munch on the discarded treat.

"Then tie them up here and let them eat until we can find another wizarding place."

"But what if someone finds them!" she protested.

"Who's honestly going to be looking in a back alley behind two rows of shops, Granger?" he snapped.

"Fine, then," she huffed as she tied her horse to a railing on a set of stairs leading to a shop's back door. "But we'd better hurry."

Riddle followed suit, and the two of them went scurrying off down the alley. They peered in shop windows, struggling to see in some as grime and dust made it hard to see in them. Soon the sun began to appear, turning the once gray fog to blue tinted mist around their feet. More shops were opening, and the likelihood that they would be able to peer into them without being conspicuous was becoming slim.

"C'mon," Hermione urged in exhaustion. "We've been up and down most every side road and back alley in this town and there's no sign of another wizarding shop anywhere. The sun is beginning to come up and if we don't get back to the Duke's castle soon, there's no chance of us not being found missing. We can search anything we missed later tonight if need be."

Tom groaned and turned around. His frustration was growing with the fruitlessness of their early rise to search and find nothing, but then he spotted a wooden crate behind Hermione that was obviously used for trash. Something was sticking out from between two of its side boards and had caught his attention.

"Just a minute, Granger," he smirked as he walked over and crouched down beside the wooden vessel. "I've got good news."

"Oh, and what's th- eeww! Tom! Don't pick in that trash. You don't know what's in it or where it's been, much less what it was used for before it was placed in there!" Hermione scolded in a disgusted manner.

"Look," he demanded as he pulled something out of the bottom of the crate.

She grimaced, but stepped closer slowly, as though against her will, and peered at what he had laying in the palm of his hand.

"Is that... a crush Billywig?" she questioned uncertainly as hope welled inside of her and pushed out the disgust of him picking through the rubbish.

"It most certainly is. And this," he continued as he stuck his other hand down into the crate, "is a horned slug. Now tell me those aren't from a wizard."

Hermione smiled as Riddle stood up, still cupping the magical potion ingredients in his hand.

"I think we're in luck," he grinned triumphantly as he looked to the building upon hearing a bell twinkling.

The two of them raced toward the front of the building with their heart's pounding rapidly and smiles plastered on their faces.

"You there!" Tom called as he entered the store, making the short, balding clerk jump.

"Y-yes, young man? What can I do for you?" he asked as he recomposed himself by standing tall and flattening his beard to his chest.

"We need your help," Hermione said as she and Riddle approached the older gentleman.

Her companion dropped the contents he had taken from the crate onto the counter and gave the shop owner a stern look.

"I _know_ these are potion ingredients from magical creatures and that only a wizard would have access to them," Tom began as the clerk went paler with each word. "So I want you to tell me all that you know."

"Oh, please!" the man pleaded as he clasped his hands together in a praying fashion while tears welled in his eyes. "Do not turn me into the authorities. I have done no wrong! I wouldn't harm a soul!"

"We understand," Hermione tried to convince him. "That's why we're here. For your help... We just need you to tell us where we can find access to the Ministry of Magic or something of that sort."

The wizard stared at her for a moment before closing his eyes and bowing his head. He opened his eyes after a deep sigh and reached across the counter taking her hands in his own. He turned his gentle gray-eyed gaze upon her, and she felt relief and trust flow through her hands into his. It was as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

"All right, m'beauty," he spoke softly as tears of gratitude welled in Hermione's eyes. After another deep breath, he continued, "There's a town about three leagues north from this one. T'would be a day's journey on horseback, and a day and a half to two days on foot. Once in that town, head to a shop called Easterner's Village Market. Inside the shop is a compass rose on the floor."

"Yes, yes," Tom said as the man paused to think.

"Trace the 'S' for south on the marking with a wand, and the boards will part to give passage to a stairwell. This stairwell leads to an underground corridor. Follow it, and it will take you to a small town square in which is the central point of the wizarding village of Bluffshire."

"Oh, thank you!" Hermione exclaimed, squeezing the man's hands.

"C'mon now," Riddle said as he pulled at her elbow. "We've got to be leaving."

With one final look of thanks toward the wizard, the two of them swiftly left the shop and traveled quickly back to their horses. Once mounted and ready, they set off for the northern edge of town.

"I say we leave now," Tom voiced as they passed a group of merchants who tried to get them to stop and buy such things as fine satin and brass canes.

"Now?" Hermione repeated, sounding shocked. "If we aren't inside that castle by lunch time as I told you once before, they'll send out a search party for us, and we won't get far. Then what would we do if they find out I was running away with you? Hmm?" He didn't answer, but only glared back at her in a furious manner instead. "I'll tell you what they'd do," she continued to chastise. "They keep me from ever seeing you. Possibly even demote you from service so that I had no contact with you at all. Then how in the name of Merlin would we get out of this... _dress-wearing_... no women's rights time period, hmm?"

He rolled his eyes and grunted with vexation.

"All right, all right," he huffed. "We'll wait."

She relaxed a bit and let her triumph calm her, but something immediately diminished that calm feeling. No more than ten feet away, the King, the Duke, and General Mardon along with Porthos and Johnalin approached on horseback. There was nothing for them to do. They couldn't very well hide seeing as they were within sighted distance of the other and there was no other way out of it.

"Ah, if it isn't young Aramis and your lovely daughter," called Rodden as he trotted up and stopped before them. "Out for a morning ride?"

"You could say that," Hermione replied with a mannerly smile.

"Fantastic!"

"Yes," Tom agreed.

"Why, Princess, shouldn't you have more than one escort if you're going to be out in such a manner?" Porthos interjected.

"I-"

"She seems just fine, does she not?" Riddle interrupted her. "I'm more than capable of keeping a watchful eye on her."

"Here, here," the Duke roared. "She seems to be all in one piece. I say our boy Aramis is doing a marvelous job, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, marvelous," the blond soldier grumbled as he glared at Tom and then the Duke who suggested that they continue on and let Hermione and her escort be on their way.

As they passed, Porthos hung back and gave the future Dark Lord a threatening, narrow-eyed stare before urging his horse on, but as he passed, he kicked Tom's horse and caused the animal to release a cry of surprise before rearing back on its hind legs. Riddle went wide-eyed and gave a cry of shock as he dug his heels into the side of his steed to will himself to stay in the saddle, yet that didn't seem to be the best thing he could have done as his horse's hooves hit the ground with an enraged thump before it set off at an alarming rate.

Hermione gasped and gave a quick look back to Porthos who chuckled and trotted off after the others. Sh grit her teeth and snapped the reins in her hands to spur her mare into a gallop. It wasn't long before she caught up with Tom who had managed to stop his horse a good way up the lane. He now stood beside the animal in a doubled over fashion with one hand on his knee and the other on the horse's shoulder. As he straightened up, she could see a blazing hatred in his eyes. He ran a hand through his jet black hair and clenched his jaw before grabbing the reins of his steed's bridle.

"I'll strangle that little prat if ever I get my hands around his throat," Riddle growled before pulling the horse towards the castle.

Hermione followed along silently, making sure not to say anything that would provoke him any further.

* * *

Hermione wandered around the halls looking for Riddle's room. She stopped and let her shoulders slump as a sigh escaped her lips. Just then, she heard footsteps, and her ears perked. From around the corner came a maid with a bowl of steaming water in her hands. 

"Princess. What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm looking for T- I mean, I'm looking for Aramis," Hermione corrected. "Where is his room?"

"I'm sorry I can't tell you that," the girl replied, but a smirk was starting to spread across her face. "But the other maid who cleans would know. She went to fetch him earlier for dinner when he didn't show."

"Do you know where she is?" Hermione quizzed with a smile.

"She took the King's hunting boots and rifle up to him. He had her polish them today," the maid informed. "She'll probably be heading this way with dinner for Aramis."

"Thanks!" Hermione called as she took to walking briskly down the hall toward the King's room, which was only just down the hall from her own.

When she caught up with the cleaning maid, Hermione found she hadn't been on her way from the King's room, but that she was on the bottom floor of the castle. The girl was carrying a tray and upon it was Tom's dinner.

"Excuse me!" Hermione exclaimed as she saw her. "C'mere!"

"All right, but I must hurry, miss. I need to get this dinner to Aramis before it gets cold," she remarked as she walked over to Hermione while carefully balancing the tray.

"Let me accompany you."

"But you're not supposed to know where his room is!"

"Please?" Hermione pleaded.

The look that dawned the girl's face then was one of internal battle. A battle of what her duty was against what her heart wished to happen. In the end, her heart won.

"Very well. Come along."

The pair set off on their way to the first floor. Once there, Hermione made note of where Riddle's room was. And it was, as the Duchess had said, clear on the other side of the castle. '_Well, I just fixed her_,' Hermione thought as she turned to her walking companion.

"I'll take this," she said as she grabbed the tray. "You should probably get back to your other chores."

"Leave you alone with him?" she gaped.

"Yes. Now go... by order of me, the Princess. Go on."

The maid bit her bottom lip nervously and let her eyes shift over the corridor, Hermione, and the door to Tom's room before she let go of the handles on the tray. Hermione took it from her and watched her slowly walk away. Once she was out of sight around the corner, the Gryffindor Head Girl balanced the tray on one hand and opened the door. She entered and shut it behind her and then stopped there as she spotted Riddle.

He was leaning on the window sill, propped up by his forearms. Wind ruffled his normally neat, combed black hair. Now it was mussed and untidy, something like Harry's.

She sat the tray down and approached, pausing halfway across the room as the sound of her footsteps caught his attention. He stood up straight and looked around at her.

"I brought you dinner," Hermione muttered while gesturing to the tray.

"I'm in no mood to eat," he mumbled as he turned back to the window. "I want to go home," he added a few moments later.

Hermione had seen him show humanity, the time when he took care of her had been one of those instances, but right now there was a vulnerability that she hadn't really seen before. It appealed to her and made her want to wrap her arms around him. And so it seemed that she would. Her feet were moving her closer without her conscious knowledge. She stopped only a few feet from him, feeling chills waving up and down her body. She reached out while taking a few more steps, placing her hand on top of his where it laid on the window sill.

"I know how you feel," she said in a soothing manner.

He fought not to look at her while his eyes scanned the grounds outside, but he soon had no choice but to face her once she threw herself upon him. Hermione had him in an embrace. She was hugging him for some reason that he didn't know, which baffled him, but she knew why. She had just realized what a great friend to her he truly was, even if he hadn't meant to be, and just what a terrific person he could be. She didn't know how to place those words into a sentence to convey the feeling that she felt, so she just hugged him. When she felt Riddle look down at her, she raised her head and pressed her lips to his. He seemed surprised once again, but only for a moment as he consented and rose a hand to her face to brush his thumb on her cheek.


	25. And So Hope Dies

**A/N: **Gosh it took forever to be able to upload this. But now that I finally did, here's Chapter 25. Guess I best hand out my thanks and get to writing Chapter 26. So here goes! Thanks to: _Gueneviere, Ezeldia and Mildelra, PymyPuff20, The daughter of Slytherin, Autumn's-Smile, Skavnema, The Almighty Cheez It, nehimasgift, san01, Charming-Lynn, ellamalfoy8, o0Dreamer0o, arushi, Schermionie_ (thanks oodles for pointing out that grammar mistake. I want my fics to be perfect, so feel free to point out more... everyone!)_, LandUnderWave, ValorOrgulloso, __dreamer1516, Lolaleddir, _and _fizznsoot_.

Now, on to the chapter while I move on to writing the next... enjoy!

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**Chapter 25 – And So Hope Dies**

Hermione had roused early that morning. She had spent the night with Tom and discussed their plan to leave and head to Bluffshire. They had decided that it would be best if they left the next day while it was still very early, and by very early, that meant two in the morning. Riddle had of course argued. He had wanted to leave that very night, but she said it wasn't wise. Explaining that had they ran and been discovered to be missing, it would not take a search party long to get to them because men were already prepared for a hunt. She told him to wait until the tracking dogs would be tired from a day's hunt, and the horses were entirely too exhausted to be pushed to catch up with the two of them. He eventually consented, and she left his room at a late, late hour of the night.

Now here she was at six in the morning, wide awake and smiling because he had stopped her at his door when she was leaving, so that he could place a gentle, tingling kiss on her cheek, which lingered on throughout the night. She touched her cheek and felt a slight heat in her face. She felt like she was in a dream, or rather, the dream of a dream. It was all too perfect. She shivered blissfully at the mere thought of how happy Tom Riddle made her. Was she in love with him? The only way for her to tell was for her to see him so she could kiss him once more and feel his touch upon her cheek again. She had to see him right now, in fact.

She dressed quickly, smiling all the while. Hermione hoped to catch him as he was getting ready to head down for breakfast. Or perhaps somewhere along the way. She raced along a corridor with her heart jumping and skipping in her chest as she felt a laugh growing in her chest. She was near letting it out as a giggle when another sound reached her ears. Crying. Or what she thought to be crying.

She slowed as she looked about the hallway. There was a familiarity about the sobs. It was almost like she could place a stuck up voice and dissatisfied grimace with it. Hermione's ears perked, trying to hone in on the sound. She stepped to her right, and the sound grew an octave louder. She took another step and saw the sunlight filter through a door that was slightly ajar. Walking towards it, the sniffling and weeping grew the tiniest bit louder each time she took a step. Hermione pushed against the door and saw the Duchess. The older woman was sitting upon a vanity chair, her face in her hands, and her plump body shaking around her shoulders as she sobbed.

The Duchess looked up in her mirror and sighed before she broke out into another crying fit. Then from a drawer on the front of the vanity, she pulled a small, circular picture frame.

Hermione pushed the door a bit more, and it squeaked, which caught the attention of Rodmilla. She jumped and hastily shoved the picture back into the drawer while wiping away the tears, though her face was still splotchy red.

"What are you doing?" the Duchess demanded in a watery voice as the young Gryffindor girl stood somewhat shocked and bewildered just inside the door. "It's rude to come into a room uninvited and without knocking."

"I just heard someone crying and-"

"Someone crying?" the Duchess repeated. "Nonsense!" Hermione saw right through the ruse though; she couldn't be fooled that easily. Not with tears brimming in the Rodmilla's eyes, and her voice wavering slightly. "Now leave!" the older of the two huffed with her voice changing in tone halfway through the demand.

"Fine!" Hermione barked. She couldn't stand the Duchess's rudeness towards her when all Hermione had wanted to do was see if she was all right. Whipped around, her hair spanning out behind her to add to the dramatics of her rage, Hermione gripped the handle of the door. She stepped out into the corridor and was ready to pull it to a slamming shut when Rodmilla called out.

"I'm sorry, child." Hermione paused for a moment before turning slowly back toward the Duchess. "I've been nothing but a portentous snob to you," she sighed. Needless to say, Hermione was aghast. Was the Duchess truly apologizing? Or at least trying to explain herself? "You see, my dear," the Duchess continued, "I'm jealous of you."

"Wh-wha-"

"Yes, jealous of you. You might be wondering why, but I should think that it's obvious." Hermione stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say or even why the Duchess was jealous. "There's a few reasons," the Duchess proceeded to explain. "For one, you're a beautiful young lady, and it's natural for me to dislike you for that, but I don't truly dislike you... I envy you; I used to be young, healthy, and pretty once myself."

"Yes, you were," Hermione spoke up in agreement. "I saw the painting of you down in the room where we ate lunch the first day we were here... and I'm sure you can still be just as lovely."

"Oh, Anastasia, please don't try and raise the spirits of someone whose beauty has laid dormant for so long that it's dead."

"Beauty never dies," Hermione said as she walked over and pulled a chair away from a small table by a window. "It just grows and grows... and for those whom it's seemed to have disappeared from, well... they just need to show kindness. There's so much beauty in kindness... even more than you know really."

"That's another reason I envy you," Rodmilla sniffled. "You've got an infectious personality. People love to be around you, much like they do my husband." Hermione smiled. She had no response, or at least no hopeful response, and for some odd reason, she took that as one of the highest compliments that the Duchess could pay her. "And do you want to know why else I envy you, young Princess?"

"Why?" Hermione inquired.

"Because you have a love like the one my husband and I... used t-to... sh-share!"

The Gryffindor Head Girl felt bewilderment cross over her and then she realized that the Duchess meant the connection that Riddle and Hermione shared.

"What do you mean you 'used to share'?" Hermione asked as she rested a comforting hand atop the Duchess's.

"We don't look at each other in the same way we used to. He doesn't even stay in the same room anymore. He's appalled by the mere thought of being in the same room alone with me!" she sobbed.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. He's just... proper," Hermione soothed uncertainly. "Maybe he doesn't think it's right that you two sleep in the same room together."

"Why would that be?" the Duchess quizzed. She was not fooled in the least by Hermione's poor cover-up. "We're married. What could possibly be improper about staying in the same room?" Hermione opened her mouth, though she had no answer, but that was okay because the Duchess pressed on. "And he approved of you and your love staying in the same room back at your castle... That's why I left early. He'll let two unmarried teenagers stay together, but he won't even peek into my room!"

The crying started again and all Hermione could do was pat the older woman's hand because she was at a loss for words. What should she say? Was there anything she could say? And if so, how was she supposed to phrase it? But before Hermione could even take a breath, the Duchess continued her woeful rant.

"You know, there's part of me that wishes my child could have been like you," she spoke softly. So softly Hermione almost couldn't hear her.

"Beg pardon?"

"That's another reason I'm so awful to you," the Duchess exhaled. "I want a child of my own, and I really don't like any young person because I have no children."

"Did you-"

"Did I try for a child?" Rodmilla cut in. "Oh yes, twice in fact. I lost the child both times though. The midwife advised against us trying for another as she was convinced that it would kill me to lose a third." Hermione was shocked to tears almost. This poor woman. What it must be like to lose a child. "A poor excuse for being awful to you, I know, but I just... can't seem to... help it." The Duchess sniffled and grabbed a lace handkerchief off her vanity. She dabbed her eyes and continued to speak. "That's about the time that my husband stopped sleeping in my room. It was as though he was afraid to even touch me. We hardly ever hold hands anymore even. The only time we touch is to dance, and we've not done that for the longest time. I can't even remember the last to be truthful... I'm just fearful that he doesn't love me anymore."

"Um," Hermione began, "have you tried at all to rekindle your love?" She bit her tongue after the question came out; she hadn't thought that this might make the Duchess realize more that her marriage was on the rocks, and not to mention, Hermione really didn't want to know about the love life of the Duke and his wife.

"Oh, hundreds of times," the older woman remarked in despair.

"Um... maybe you could surprise him with a candlelit dinner in your room tonight after he returns home," Hermione suggested. "I'm sure that after a long day's hunt he'll be plenty hungry."

"Yes, yes, I could," the Duchess sniffled with hope springing into her voice. "Anything else I could do?"

"Err... what about wearing his favorite dress of yours to the dinner and... greeting him at the door?" Hermione tried.

"I could... yes. Yes, I could!" the Duchess exclaimed happily. "I'll have to have it brought out from my old wardrobe."

"And," Hermione spoke up daringly, "try to be kind? I'm sure he misses that."

The Duchess paused a moment, and her excitement became fleeting on her face. The younger woman bit the inside of her lip while wondering if she had perhaps said too much.

"Yes, I have become a bit rude," the Duchess admitted.

'_A bit?_' Hermione thought. She cringed inwardly at her comment. '_That was rude of me_.'

"Well, I must be off," she said as she stood and pushed her chair back to its original position. "I hope things work out for you."

"As do I," Rodmilla said. "Oh! Anastasia darling, thank you for all your help... for giving me a chance even though I was ghastly to you."

"Not ghastly, not at all," Hermione smiled. '_Beastly_,' she thought secretly before scolding herself once more. "Good day." With that, she left the room and headed towards the dining hall for breakfast.

* * *

Hermione pulled on a pair of riding gloves that the Duchess had bestowed upon her. She smiled and mounted the horse, but once she was in the saddle, she frowned a bit at the riding attire she was forced to wear for the hunt. Rodmilla had called it proper and fashionable. Hermione, however, doubted that it was. Then again, she wasn't much on fashion, especially in 1797. 

Taking the reins from one of the stable boys and nodded her thanks to him as Tom came trotting up beside her, she inwardly groaned as he smirked and eyed her up and down.

"Don't say a word," Hermione grumbled as the Duchess stood waving to the party from the doorway.

It was just after breakfast, and the hunting party was preparing to leave.

"Why, Anastasia!" the Duke said as he rode over to the young couple. "Is that my wife's riding outfit?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered while snapping a snickering Tom on the hand with her reins as the Duke looked over his shoulder at the Duchess. "She was most gracious to me and let me have it along with these marvelous gloves so that I don't get blisters from the reins."

"Wonderful then!" he boomed before riding up to join the King.

"Let's follow," Hermione instructed to Riddle as she willed her horse to walk up beside them.

"Ana love, are you sure that you can keep up?" the King asked with fatherly concern. "I'm afraid that without Mima here you'll fall behind the rest of us and be left alone. The two of you always seemed to stick together, so there was no fear of you being alone or too far behind."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Tom spoke up. There was something strange in his voice that made Hermione look at him, and she could have sworn that when his eyes darted to her, there was a glimpse of something deep down within him. It looked like something that had lain dormant and almost forgotten; something like love.

She shook her head when someone called, and dogs began to bark. Looking up ahead, she saw something red streak off across the field and towards a forested area.

"You all right?" Riddle asked as he watched the King, Mardon, Porthos, and Duke Rodden set off at a gallop.

"Fine," Hermione said as she settled her self securely into the saddle. '_My mind's just playing tricks_,' she thought as she nodded for extra assurance. "We best catch up so we can keep an eye on those two and the King."

He said nothing and merely spurred his horse into a gallop with Hermione following suit. Minutes later they were caught up and entering the forest. The party had slowed, and the barking of the dogs had ceased. All that could be heard now was the sound of twigs snapping under the feet of the horses, and dogs rustling in the underbrush. Birds chirped in the early morning as they flew from branch to branch while the bits on the reins of the horses jingled from the steeds tossing their heads to ward off any bugs stirred up by their feet. The sniffling of the dogs as they ran their nose across the ground in search of their hunted game was faint, but noticeable to those who paid close attention.

Hermione was almost afraid to breathe; fearful that she would break the peaceful silence. But there was something scary about this silence even if it was slightly peaceful. It was foreboding in an all too quiet way. She glanced toward Tom who had his eyes shifting periodically among the King, Porthos, and the General. As Hermione turned her own eyes to the King, she swore she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Her head snapped up to the trees above her, but all she glimpsed there was weak, morning sun rays trying their best to break through the holes in the bright green foliage above them.

"Something wrong?" Riddle whispered as he brought his horse closer to hers.

Their feet were nearly touching as they rode, and his eyes followed hers to the tree branches above and then back down to her as she mumbled her answer.

"Just thought that I saw something... but it was probably just a bird."

He shifted his eyes to the King and then back to Hermione.

"I think I would feel better if you rode up there with him," he informed as he nodded to a vacant spot on her pretend father's right.

"I feel safer back here with you," she spoke softly while feeling an odd warmth creep into her cheeks. What made the situation even more odd was that he seemed to flush a bit as well while he nodded and let her continue to ride on his left. His eyes returned to glancing around and checking Hermione and the King every now and then as they rode.

Suddenly, the dogs stopped; something was wrong. It was as though a foul scent had crept into the air. One of the five canines laid down, put his nose to the ground, and covered it with his front paws. Another backed up until it ran into a horse and let out a fearful yelp before cowering under the steed with its tail between its legs.

"Something's not right here," the Duke said as he looked from the dog under the General's horse to the King.

"I say, what's going on up there, Mardon?" the King called. "Is it another animal?"

"Not the kind of animal he thinks," Riddle said so that only Hermione heard as his eyes darted about the forest. "Stay close... and have your wand ready."

"What do you think it is?" Hermione asked as she pushed her fingers up into her sleeve so she could grab her wand handle.

Tom never answered as his head snapped to the right. Everything that followed seemed to happen in a flash.

Four men in dark brown outfits stood, leaves stuck to their attire as though they had been disguising themselves. Hermione gasped and pulled her wand from her sleeve, but it got caught on a loose stitch, and she dropped it. As she dismounted and hid behind her horse, she heard Riddle shout. Her heart leap into her throat as her eyes flew to him. As quick as lightning, she was on her knees on the ground, groping for her wand as he forced his horse to leap forward. Then the unthinkable happened.

Just as she stood up, she saw the four men launch arrows at the King. Two of the arrows were badly aimed and hit trees. Another hit its target, and the other hit something else entirely. Hermione cried out as Tom fell from his horse. A tingling sensation rushed over her, and everything seemed to go in slow motion after that.

There was a loud bang that seemed to split her eardrums. She jammed her fingers into her ears, wincing and gritting her teeth as she dropped to her knees again. There was a loud thud that shook the ground, and she looked to the source of it. What she saw was one of the four attackers lying among the underbrush, his dark brown shirt turning black where a hole pierced the fabric. He was bleeding, and judging by the glassy look in his eyes, he was dying from the wound.

"For God's sake, Mardon! Shoot those men!" Rodden ordered as he dropped his own gun, which had apparently been the one to release the loud shot that took down the first attacker as it lay smoking on the ground. The Duke forgot it now, however, as he helped the King. He was slouched in the saddle with an arrow in his ribs, and his already red hunting suit growing a darker maroon around the shaft of the arrow.

There was another round of loud bangs, and Hermione winced again. When she opened her eyes, they landed on the most unwelcoming of sights. Tom was lying on the ground. His face was virtually paler than snow, and his eyes were closed. He wasn't moving and there was an arrow jutting out of his left shoulder. Hermione's throat tightened as she scrambled towards him on her hands and knees. Tears were beginning to blind her as she grabbed his head and laid it on her knees.

"T-T-To-om," she whimpered as she bent over him, but there was no answer.


	26. When Death Threatens

**A/N:** Well, all my lovely readers and reviewers, you'll be happy to know that I'm going to be confined to the computer for at least the next fifteen days. Sadly, I've broken my toe and my whole foot is swollen, rendering me unable to walk without great pain shooting through my foot and leg. So I'm going to be stuck in the computer chair until the pain eases up. But that's besides the point... on to the thank you's.

Thanks to: _nehimasgift, .o0Aurelie0o., arushi, LandUnderWave, Charming-Lynn, Gueneviere, PymyPuff20, pottersgirl91, ellamalfoy8, libaka, Schermionie_ (I am forever grateful and in your debt! Thanks so much and I hope this chapter is better grammatically), _Featherstrike, dreamer1516, The Almighty Cheez It, Chocolatecoveredespressobean, Silver Tears 11, Hyperactiva, o0Dreamer0o, Lolaleddir, Skavema, The daughter of Slytherin, the. dead. addict., AMistressMalfoy, _and _fizznsoot._

Enjoy! I'm off to write Chapter 27.

* * *

**Chapter 26 – When Death Threatens**

"Help me, son!" the Duke grunted to Porthos. Rodden was struggling to hold the King in the saddle; it seemed to be taking all of his might to hold himself upright while keeping the King from falling as well.

Porthos dismounted and jogged to the side of the King, helping to lower him down as the Duke dismounted as well. Once on the ground, they lay him down, and a groan escaped his lips as he clutched at his ribs. He was obviously having difficulty breathing, but Hermione hardly noticed just what was going on with anyone but Tom.

She was still sitting upon her knees with his head resting on her legs. Tears were still flooding from her eyes and splashing down onto her dress. From there they fell into Tom's ebony hair and onto his face. She grabbed his hand; it was clammy and pale. Her heart was racing as she tapped his cheek lightly with her other hand, hoping to get a response from him, but still nothing happened. She looked to the arrow that jutted out of his shoulder. Hermione could almost sense his pain as she looked at the blackening blood stain on his shirt. She knew that she had to dislodge the arrow and tie the wound off with applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

She moved his head from her lap, crawling around to his left side as the King cried out in the background. Turning her head to the other four men only for a second long enough to see that they were lifting the King from the ground, she realized now that she was Riddle's only hope as they tended to the fallen leader. Knowing that they would perceive the King as more important than a mere soldier boy, Hermione grabbed the arrow and tightened her grip as she clenched her teeth. She hoped that the projectile would dislodge quickly, effortlessly, and for Tom's sake, painlessly. Closing her eyes, Hermione gave a powerful upward yank on the wooden rod. With the sound of squelching blood and muscle, the arrow was removed, but another sound had accompanied it. A scream.

Her eyes snapped open as she tossed the wound inflicting rubbish aside. Her hands flew to his face and cupped it as she was overcome by more tears.

"Speak to me!" she demanded.

He only grunted with pain though. She was brought back to the task at hand by his sounds of distress. She stood, brushing off a section of her skirt. She grabbed the bottom of it, pulling it tight, and picked up the arrow. The Gryffindor Head Girl shoved it through the dress, creating a hole that she could push her fingers through to more easily rip the garment. She pulled at the fabric until there a full skirt length strip torn from the skirt. Kneeling once more, Hermione lifted Tom's arm and shoulder, which was much to his grumbling protest. She began wrapping the strip of material around his shoulder and then tied it tight over the wound so there was plenty of pressure to suppress the bleeding.

It was then that she noticed the Duke was by her side. He was ready to lift Riddle from the ground as Porthos and Mardon stood with their horses tied together. The King was laid across the two saddles and held down by a broken rein as he expressed the growing pain in his side.

"Come now, Princess," Rodden instructed. "We must get him up onto his horse so that I can help him along. It's most prudent that we get back to the castle quickly."

She nodded, wishing she could forsake hiding her magic and just levitate her time-traveling companion, but the men around her would grow extremely alarmed by the use of such power, and it would only cause more trouble. She grabbed Tom's legs as the Duke grabbed his waist and together they hoisted Riddle up into the saddle. Rodden held him there long enough for Hermione to mount her horse, and in turn, hold the future Dark Lord while the Duke got into his own saddle.

They set off, Porthos and the General leading the way as the Duke followed while partly holding Tom in the saddle. Hermione brought up the rear, pulling the King's horse along beside her own as she watched Riddle carefully. He was sweating profusely, moaning, and lolling his head as he slumped in the saddle. His eyes flickered, and he occasionally slid to one side of the saddle, only to be righted by Duke Rodden. Hermione suddenly felt very alone as she rode behind them with an empty saddle next to her. Would her Slytherin heir friend make it?

The makeshift bandage that she had made for him was already turning pink from the blood that it had soaked up. She feared in that moment that if she lost him, she would live forever alone while stuck in a time that wasn't her own. Tears prickled her eyes as her heart twinged at the very thought, but it wasn't just the thought of being stuck in the time alone; it was the thought of not being with Riddle.

* * *

It seemed as though it had taken the hunting party ages to reach the castle. When they got there, they were greeted by six stable boys. One of the stable hands took off into the castle for the nurse, three others helped Porthos, Mardon, and the Duke remove the King and Tom from their saddles while the last stable boy began moving the horses out of the way. 

Once inside the castle, panic broke loose. Maids were running amok while fetching hot water, bandages, and other supplies to help the two wounded men. The Duchess was calling to her husband from upstairs. Apparently, she had intended to graciously welcome him home, but got quite a shock instead.

"My heavens! What's the meaning of this?" she demanded frantically. "And Anastasia... just look at the dress I gave you; all torn and covered in dirt!" She seemed distraught as she addressed Hermione, who had figured that the Duchess would be furious when she saw what had happened to the dress.

"By God, woman, that's hardly the least of our worries!" the Duke scolded as he helped carry Tom into a nearby room.

The tables were forsaken and served, for the moment, as improvised beds to lay the two wounded men upon. Nurses and maids began ripping open the shirts that Riddle and the King were wearing so their wounds could be properly dressed.

"Oh! My table linens! And all this blood!" the Duchess cried as she gaped at the floor where a trail of crimson led into the room from outside.

"Will you stop your bothersome whining!" Rodden commanded as he attempted to slam a hand down on the table in vexation and hit Tom's wounded shoulder instead.

He rose halfway up into a sitting position with his back arched as he yelled out in anguish. The Duke gasped and began shouting his apologies above Riddle's cries and orders of the nurses before quickly ushering himself and his wife from the room. Mary and Janessa came running in, each carrying a bowl of steaming water and a roll of white linens for bandages.

"Oh, Princess!" exclaimed Mary.

"This is no place for you!" Janessa gasped as she and the other maid ushered Hermione from the room.

"But I want to see him!" the Gryffindor cried out.

"But you mustn't be in the way," Mary advised.

"We'll take you to see your father as soon as they have him fixed up in bed and feeling better," the other lady in waiting assured her.

But Hermione hadn't meant the King; she had meant Tom. Yet what Mary and Janessa said made her realize something else: If she lost the King as well as Riddle, she would truly be alone and without the least bit of comfort. Hermione would then be pushed to take her place on the thrown as queen too.

'_He has to pull through... They both do!_' Hermione thought in panic as her ladies in waiting led her from the room.

* * *

Hermione lay in bed all day after making Mary and Janessa leave the room. She had cried a great deal. In fact, Hermione had cried so much that she had exhausted herself. After a short, fitful sleep, she was visited by her ladies in waiting again. The two maids had tried to bring her food and talk to her, but she would neither eat nor talk. Her reason behind this was because neither of her maids would tell her anything of Tom's condition or the King's. She had turned the two away several times, but they had come back every instance, begging her to eat. Hermione just turned her back to them and buried her face in a pillow. The last time, she had heard them whispering out in the hallway just outside the door, sounding fretful and genuinely concerned. 

By later that night, the Gryffindor Head Girl was fed up and starting to feel slightly paranoid and almost crazy. She had been pent up in the room all day by no one's will but her own, yet with no news, it was no wonder she felt like a prisoner. If someone didn't tell her what was happening soon, Hermione was determined to burst into every room in the castle until she found out.

Just then, there was a knock upon her door, and the click of the lock told her that someone was coming in. She rolled over to face the door and sat up in the bed, staring at the intruder. It was the Duchess, and she was accompanied by none other than the Duke. Both looked something close to grave, and Hermione felt the worst was coming.

"Why have you not eaten, child?" asked Rodmilla as she walked over and sat down upon the bed. She took Hermione's hand into her own and patted it before smoothing back Hermione's matted hair from her pale, tear stained face.

"I refuse to eat until someone can tell me what's going on," the younger woman replied. "I have just as much right to know what's happening with my father and Aramis as anyone does."

"Too right you are," the Duke muttered kindly as he nodded. "And that's just what we've come to do as your hosts." He paused; Hermione felt her stomach twist itself into unbearable knots while the feeling of mounting tension crept up her spine. Her body vibrated with a forboding feeling while her eyes grew wide with expectancy as the hairs upon her arms and neck stood on end. "First, I wish you to know that I've sent out a group of no less than sixty men in search for the scoundrels that have done this to your beloved father and companion," Rodden assured her.

"And when we catch them, we will make sure that they get exactly what is coming to them," the Duchess butted in.

"But how are they?" Hermione managed to ask.

"I fear that your father isn't doing so well, love," the Duke sighed.

The pain was visible on his face now as he pulled downward upon his mustache. His eyes were glassed over with worry, and Hermione then realized that she wasn't the only one this situation was hurting. Rodden was facing something much like she was, much like she already had in being forced to leave Harry and Ron behind when she was thrown through time and space.

"What's wrong with him?" she inquired.

"He's come down with a most horrible fever and the bleeding is... difficult to stop," the Duke continued, swallowing back his despair.

"Oh, do stop!" Rodmilla commanded sympathetically. "You'll work yourself and the Princess into an illness," she warned as she touched her eyes with a handkerchief.

"And... and Aramis? How is he?"

"He's a fair deal better off than your father, but still in and out of it," the Duchess answered, obviously trying to give Hermione some hope. But when Hermione's response was nothing but a frown, the Duchess continued, "We've sent away for the best men of medicine in the country. We've made sure to tell them it was extremely urgent that they get here immediately."

"Yes, and there's all the hope in the world for Aramis. He's young and fit; he'll probably pull through this in no time," the Duke consoled.

"Ana," Duchess Rodmilla sighed, "have you eaten at all today?"

"No... I haven't been hungry."

"But you must eat, dear," the older woman argued lightly. "It won't do any good for you to get sick as well. Your father and young friend need to see you healthy and somewhat happy so they strive to get better for you."

A heart-filled smile touched the Duchess's features, and a glow lit up her face. Hermione smiled faintly. She couldn't help it; the smile the Duchess had given Hermione was contagious and apparently the Duke had noticed it as well. A fondness sparkled in his eyes as he looked at his wife, who patted Hermione's hand one last time and stood up.

"Feel free to come down to dinner, Ana," the Duchess advised in a motherly fashion before turning to her husband. "Come along... leave her to her some peace and solitude."

The Duke said nothing as he followed his wife from the room, seemingly speechless at her new behavior towards Hermione. She watched the older couple close the door before she got up and went over to her dresser. A basin of water sat there, cold from being left over from the night before. She cupped her hands into the water and splashed it up onto her face before fumbling along the dresser for the towel. She dabbed her face dry and felt somewhat refreshed, yet still a little down-hearted. Hermione looked into the mirror and frowned at her bloodshot eyes and messy hair. She grabbed the brush and began yanking it through her matted locks. She tried for five minutes before giving up and using her wand. Then a thought came to her when she looked at her wand. Healers. She needed to go get some Healers and bring them to the castle so that they could heal Tom and the King.

A smile grew on her face as she bounded out into the corridor, her destination Tom's room. Hermione slowed as she rounded the corner to the corridor were Riddle's room was. She straightened herself, realizing that she still had on the riding dress from earlier that day. Shaking her head in momentary frustration before shrugging it off, she knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so Hermione pushed the door open. Inside, Tom was lying in bed with a sweat still existent upon his face, and his skin still overly pale. She approached as quietly as possible and sat down in a chair beside the bed where a nurse had obviously been.

Hermione looked around the room, uneasy with the silence blanketing everything that resided within those four walls, but the silence was broken shortly after as Riddle moaned and shifted slightly in bed. She turned her eyes to him and saw him wince; he was obviously in pain. She needed to do something for him, but right now, the only thing she could think of was to dab his forehead with a damp cloth, so that's exactly what she did. After dipping the cloth in the cool water that was beside the bed, Hermione slid out of the chair and onto the edge of the bed. She was careful not to move too much so as not to shake the bed and cause him discomfort. Reaching up slowly, she ran the cloth gently across his face, brushing some stray strands of hair back from his eyes as she went.

"Don't worry," she whispered to him as she dipped the cloth in the water again. "I'm going to get you some real help, okay?"

She wiped his face again before standing and leaving the room. She headed down to the kitchens, half expecting to find Mary and Janessa there, but she didn't. Instead, she found the Duke. He was eating a rather large piece of chocolate dessert as he sat alone at a small two person table in the corner of the room.

"Are you all right?" she asked as she walked up to him.

"Oh... just fine," he muttered before taking another bite. "Just hiding down here so I can have some extra dessert... My wife hates it when I eat more than one serving at dinner, but I can't help it," he joked half heartedly. Hermione smiled and sat down with him, realizing just how hungry she was as she got a whiff of the food that was left over from dinner. Her stomach growled loudly, and she blushed as he Duke chuckled. "Thought you might be hungry," he said as he reached over shoved the last piece of cake towards her. "Eat."

"Thanks," she sighed.

Silence passed between them as they ate, and when the Duke had finished, he exhaled loudly and stared around the room.

"You really should visit your wife," Hermione advised quietly in an attempt to break the muteness. "I know it's not my place to say anything, but she needs you just as much as you need her right now. She's lonely, and she misses you. You're her husband, and as that, you need to show her love... always."

The Duke just stared at Hermione for a moment before a tear rolled down his cheek.

"I have ignored her for years and have greatly missed waking up each morning with her snoozing lightly beside me," he muttered, bowing his head. "It's just that I'm afraid she doesn't return my love like she used to. She's changed... she's become bitter. Yet today... today I saw a change in her when she talked to you."

"She still does love you. She's just not sure how to show it," Hermione remarked. "Go to her tonight... stay with her. I'm sure you'll see what I mean."

"Wise beyond your years, you are," he chuckled. "You're going to make a marvelous queen some day."

"No time too soon will I be queen," Hermione assured. She didn't intend on being around for that, and she was going to make sure the King made it through this. In fact, she was going to assure that very soon.

The Duke's eyes twinkled with a faint happiness before he rose from his chair.

"If you'll excuse me, young Princess, I'm going to do as you've suggested. I've been away from my love for far too long." With that, he left, and Hermione breathed easy while the tiniest hint of a smile curved her lips.

* * *

Hermione walked quickly down the street. She had rode down into town and tied her horse at a post near the edge of the village. She hated to be alone when it was growing dark so fast, but there was something that she had to do. Few remained out and about on the streets. A group of women and their husbands headed home, and four other men walked along lighting candles inside street lamps. Lights flickered out in store windows and shop doors began to display signs of closure. Hermione continued to quicken her pace still, bowing her head and hiding her face under the hood on her cloak. She turned a corner and looked back over her shoulder upon hearing some men laughing as they left a pub, hiccuping and singing. The smell of booze drifted through the air towards her, and she stiffened her back, noticing the store she was looking for was only three buildings away. She dashed into the place just in time; the man that she and Tom had seen yesterday morning was crossing the shop with a sign that displayed he was closed. 

"I'm sorry, milady," he said, unable to recognize Hermione because of her hood, "but I'm closing up now."

"But I desperately need your assistance," Hermione said as she lowered her hood.

"Oh, it's you!" he exclaimed while coming closer. "Where's your young male friend?"

"That's why I'm here," she began to explain. "He's been hurt and so has my father. I need to get to a Healer."

"All right... all right," he nodded quickly. "Just let me close up shop, and I'll help you the best I can." With that said, he walked past her and locked the front door before hanging a sign in the window. He put out the light that was in the front of the shop and ushered Hermione into the back of the store. "If it's a Healer you need, then I'll have to take you to Bluffshire. I'm no good with fixing things, only inventing them, and I'm really no good at Potions," he told her as he headed towards the fireplace. "And seeing as you can't Apparate... or can you?"

"I can."

"Ah, but Floo would be safer," he mumbled more to himself than Hermione, ignoring her answer. "It'll take us right into Bluffshire without the few days trip that I mentioned yesterday, but don't tell no one that. I'm not supposed to have a fireplace fixed up to there. If the Ministry found out... boy, oh boy, I'd be in all sorts of trouble." At that moment, Hermione didn't care for rules, and even if she did, she had no real way of getting to London's Ministry to tell on him.

"All right, let's go," she agreed.

He said nothing more as he pulled a pot down from the mantle and lit a fire. He tossed the shimmering powder into the flames and gestured for Hermione to go first.

"Just shout 'Bluffshire', and you'll be taken to the pub there. Wait for me, and I'll be right along after you."

She nodded and stepped into the green flames. She shouted her destination as she went, and the familiar whirling sensation that she often experienced when visiting the Weasleys began. Instantly, she hugged her arms to herself tightly so as to keep her elbows tucked in and closed her eyes to prevent sickness. She heard bits of conversations, though most were rushed and blurred in a mesh of confusion. Suddenly, she jerked to a stop and stumbled out of the fireplace, toppling over a stool. She was soon helped up by her travelling companion who stumbled from the fireplace, almost tripping over her in the process.

When Hermione was finally back on her feet and brushing herself off, she looked around. A strange giddiness filled her as she saw the round bar with its many stools, and a few tables flecking the corners of the pub. She guessed that her excitement was due to the fact that she was in an all wizarding village, which meant she was finally close to getting help. The King and Tom would be healed, and she and Riddle would be on their way home in no time. Or so she hoped they would be.


	27. Trip to Bluffshire

**A/N:** Chapter 27 in all its glory with many rounds of thank you's. So, thanks to: _ellamalfoy8, Charming-Lynn, Silver Tears 11, LandUnderWave, Gueneviere, marauder'sbabe_ (I like the new name)_, o0Dreamer0o, Skavnema, Neko-Mitsuko, fizznsoot, Autumn's-Smile, the. dead. addict., pottersgirl91, Lolaleddir, .o0Aurelie0o., arushi_ (Thanks double for the ideas), _Schermionie_ (Thanks doubly to you as well for all your help, kindness, and just everything. Hope you get better soon!), _The daughter of Slytherin, nehimasgift,__ libaka_, and _simply2die4._

I should put out twice the amount of thank you's to those who wished me well. It really worked, y'all! I'm able to walk at an eight-five percent normality now. There's still a bit of strangeness in my step, but I'm almost there. I can almost put my foot flat on the floor, and that's a good sign. Anyways...

Hope you enjoy the chapter as I must now go before my cat decides she wants to type anymore. As it was, she had 'kkmsdnjhxcpo59+' typed out to everyone. -laughs- Here's the chapter, I'm off to write Chapter 28.

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**Chapter 27 – Trip to Bluffshire**

"Ah, Baltor," called a tall, burly looking wizard as he walked up to Hermione and her escort. "It's been quite some time. Come! Have a drink."

"I'm sorry, Brother, but I can't," answered Hermione's momentary friend, Baltor. "I must take her to the Healer," he added as he gestured to the young woman he was accompanying.

"Mmm... and who is this young beauty that you have here?" asked Baltor's brother.

"I'm no one... just a passing stranger in search of help from the only place I could think to find it," she replied before looking to Baltor, whose ears turned pink.

"Do you have a name though, my dear passing stranger?" Baltor's brother continued.

"Come, come, Arthur, this isn't the time. She needs to hurry," Baltor interrupted.

"Very well," Arthur relented. "I shall let you leave. Nice to have seen you again, Brother, and a pleasure to have met you, young lady."

"Likewise," Hermione said as she left with Baltor.

They exited the pub and for the first time Hermione noticed what the village was like. It was set in a hillside of rock, or rather built inside of a hill so that it was much like a cave with hollow spots or a group of caverns. The walls had been carved out so that the town was five levels high. Upon each lay a road with houses, stores, barns, sheds, and gardens. Hermione wouldn't have believed anything could grow in this place, but with the help of magic, almost anything was possible. She looked up at what should have been the ceiling and was surprised to see something remnant of Hogwarts. Instead of a dirt dome ceiling, there was an enchanted night sky. Its sparkling white stars twinkled at random intervals as they peeked around black clouds floating calmly through the mimicked canopy.

"Are you coming?" asked Baltor as he stopped a few feet away when he noticed Hermione was no longer following him.

"Oh, yes," she answered, pulled abruptly from her mesmerized state. She followed Baltor in the direction of the town's end, watching horse drawn buggies pass by them. The pair was almost at one of the hillside's enormous stone walls when Baltor turned and walked up a flight of stairs between two buildings. Once upon the landing of the second story, he knocked on the door and from the other side of the entrance came a clattering noise as though someone had dropped some pots and pans.

A surprised expression dawned on Hermione's face when someone yelled to them.

"Gah bollocks! I'm coming, I'm coming." Grumbling followed the bellowed statement, which made Hermione wonder if the voice addressing them belonged to an intelligent version of a troll. Moments later an irritated looking wizard wearing a nightshirt and a nightcap opened the door and glared at the pairing upon the landing of the steps. "Baltor? What brings you here at this hour?" asked the angered man. "Don't you realize it's after nine? People are sleeping, you know."

"I know, Barth, but this young woman needs your assistance. Her father and friend have been injured-"

"And they're near death. Please... can you come help them?" Hermione finished, cutting Baltor off.

"Near death, did you say?" Barth stated, his ire melting away to a serious, business-like tone. "What happened?"

"We were out riding, and they were shot down by some assassins' arrows."

"Then there's no time to waste. Just step inside for a moment while I go downstairs and gather some potions," Barth instructed as he stepped away from the door, leaving it open for Hermione and Baltor to enter.

The Healer didn't wait for them to accept his invitation to come in as he chose to disappear from the kitchen into a darkened hallway. Awkward silence fell over Hermione and her escort, but she paid no attention to it because she was secretly jumping for joy. She would finally get Tom and the King some help and then she and Riddle could follow Barth back to Bluffshire if they could. After that, Hermione could seek help with Tom to get them back to their rightful time periods.

When Barth reappeared, he was wearing a wizard's cloak of deep plum with gold stitching that spelled out the name of his healing establishment. In his hand was a black bag much like one a Muggle doctor would carry and from inside it came the sound of clinking jars.

"How shall we get to your residence?" quizzed Barth.

"You'll probably have to Apparate to my shop in the Muggle town," Baltor replied before Hermione could even take a breath.

"From there, you'll head to the castle that's just outside town," she added.

"Wait!" Barth demanded; his voice was so sharp and sudden that it made everyone else jump. "The castle of Duchess Rodmilla?"

"Yes, the same," Hermione responded, bewildered by Barth's abrupt, venomous behavior.

"I will _not_ go there!" Barth snapped. "I _refuse_!"

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "But why?"

"I will not set foot in that mad woman's home," the Healer remarked as he sat his bag down on the tiny kitchen table and turned to leave the room.

"Then you aren't worthy of the title of Healer!" the young Gryffindor retaliated quickly, spurred to choler because of the Healer's refusal to help.

"Don't insult me, girl!" Barth roared, rounding on her. However, she stood tall with her head held high, her back stiffened, and her expression hardened. It made her stature immediately demand the respect her title of Princess called for.

"I wouldn't if you didn't refuse to help!" Hermione barked. "There's two people who've done nothing to you and nothing to deserve what they suffer that need your help."

"You know naught of what that awful woman has done, so do not presume to tell me that I'm refusing to help _them_. I refuse to be around _her home_!"

"I don't care what she's done to you!" Hermione screamed, jamming her finger into Barth's chest. Normally she wouldn't disrespect her elders in such a manner, but this man was toying with people's lives, and those two people happened to be very important to her at the moment. "I want you to heal them. They _need _you to heal them!"

"You bring them here then, and I'll do my best. But I will not go there," he growled stubbornly.

"I can't bring my father here," she argued with a fire blazing in her eyes. "He doesn't know about me being a witch, and he's under constant supervision anyways. So I can't very well take him out of the castle without dozens of Muggles seeing me and either stopping or following me." Barth glared at her, seemingly sizing her up. Time was dwindling, and she knew it. Not to mention, she was fast growing sick of this pettiness. As a result of desperation, she pulled out her wand and aimed it at the Healer. "Either you grab that little black bag of yours and get ready, or else I'll hex you into oblivion. Do you understand me?" she threatened.

"I will not!" Barth yelled. "That ridiculous Duchess had my brother prosecuted. She said that he preformed dark magic around her to try and rape her. Now he's dead... hung in front of everyone in that wretched Muggle town! He didn't deserve that, now did he? As a result, I don't set foot near her or anything to do with her, else I'll strangle that unimaginable wench." He huffed like a bull ready to charge while a vein in his reddened temple throbbed visibly. "I'm glad he did finally curse her and stop her from bearing any hideous children like herself," he added, finally releasing all of his vexation over Rodmilla and her wrong against his family.

Hermione was stunned for a moment after Barth's explosion. So that was why the Duchess was unable to keep any of the children she became pregnant with. Shaking off her shock, Hermione came back to the problem at hand, but this time she was twice as angry.

"It's past, and you're not doing it for her; it's for me," she continued to argue.

"What part of what I'm telling you don't you understand? I am _not_ going there."

Hermione's hands shook with rage. Before she realized what she was doing, Hermione pulled her arm back and swung with all the power she could muster. Her fist connected directly with the Healer's nose, and his eyes instantly began to water as he gasped in pain. His hands flew up to his face as she shook her arm while pain burst around her knuckles. She knew she had broken his nose because she had felt it snap beneath her fist. Turning away from Barth, she grabbed the bag off the table and headed for the door.

"Wha- where are you going?" Baltor called as Hermione walked out onto the landing of the stairs.

"I'm going back to my father and friend so I can heal them," she replied. "You can stay with him, but I'm sure he's more than capable of handling the situation himself. Or you can come with me."

Baltor stood gaping as Hermione gave him a few seconds to decide. When he made no move or sound, she shook her head, feeling hindered as she descended to the street below.

"Wait!" Baltor yelled. He came barreling down the steps after her, tripping and almost rolling down the last five stairs. "I have to take you back!"

He raced to catch up with her, and they were halfway to the pub before he finally reached her side. When they entered the establishment, Baltor's brother greeted them again and asked where the Healer was, but neither Hermione nor Baltor gave an answer. They simply headed for the fireplace, Baltor pulling out a bag of Floo powder from his pocket. He handed some to Hermione and told her what to say. She wasted not even a second in throwing down the powder and bellowing her destination, Baltor right behind her. When she stopped, she stumbled from the fireplace. The shopkeeper came out behind her, bumping into her and causing her to fall. The bag in her hand hit the floor roughly despite her efforts, and a crashing sound reached their ears. She gasped and opened the bag quickly to see that one of the six bottles was broken and leaking.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," Baltor apologized as he knelt down to help Hermione. She shook her head, knowing that Baltor really hadn't meant any harm.

"There's another full bottle in here. I should have enough," she assured him as she closed the bag and stood up. "I really must be going now." She grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it. "Thank you."

"Let me walk you to the castle. You really shouldn't go alone."

"I have a horse at the end of town waiting for me," Hermione informed.

"Then let me walk you there," Baltor insisted.

"Very well, but let's hurry," she sighed. With that, they left through the back door of the shop and started off down the back alley.

Hermione and Baltor nearly jogged the whole way, and before either realized how far they had gone, the horse came into view. She bid him goodbye and thanked him once more for his help before mounting her steed. She secured the bag on her lap, grabbed the reins, and willed the animal onward. It took her only minutes to get to the castle in a slow gallop. She didn't bother returning the horse, but instead tethered its reins to the side of the stable. Racing for the castle door, Hermione decided that she would first visit Tom. She jogged up the stairs, slightly out of breath and beginning to feel a stitch grow in her side.

Once to his room, she poked her head inside the doorway and peered around to make sure no one was there. The room was empty except for Riddle, who was sleeping in his bed. She entered the room fully and shut the door behind her, careful to lock it with magic. Walking swiftly over to the bed and sitting the bag down on the nightstand, she noticed that someone had obviously been there since she had last visited him. The bandage that covered his shoulder had been changed, and the basin of water was gone. Hermione gave the matter no further thought though as she set to work, pulling out the five remaining bottles and looking to the labels. Two were full of Sleeping Draught, another was two-thirds of the way full of Blood-Replenishing Potion. The fourth was a half empty bottle of Invigoration Draught, the same as the broken one, and the last was one-fourth of the way full of Murtlap Essence.

Hermione frowned while wondering if she would have enough of the Murtlap to use on both Tom and the King. Shaking her head, she pushed this thought from her mind. If anything, she would go back to Bluffshire and get more in the morning. At the moment, she had what was needed to at least heal Riddle.

She uncorked the bottle of Murtlap Essence and grabbed some of the white bandages that were laying on the bedside table. She moved to his left side and began unwrapping his shoulder. He groaned in his sleep, and she wondered if she should slip him a tablespoon of the Sleeping Draught. Pausing a moment to see if he would wake, she looked on with baited breath and carefully observing eyes, but he didn't stir anymore.

Once she taken the bandage off completely, Hermione glanced at the stitched-up wound. She shivered as she imagined the pain he had endured without something to numb the area while the nurses sewed it. Figuring it best to keep her mind on the task at hand, Hermione grabbed the bottle of Murtlap and poured a bit onto the linen. She dabbed it onto the wound, pondering how long it would take for the potion to heal the injury. Once she had the area completely covered, she wrapped bandages around Tom's shoulder once more. Now all that was left was to give him some of the Blood-Replenishing Draught.

She grabbed her wand and transfigured a knob from the nightstand drawer into a wooden spoon. Hermione glanced at him and thought about waking him, but she decided otherwise. He just looked so peaceful to her that she dared not bother him. Unsure of how long she had stared at Riddle, she brought herself out of her reverie and placed a kiss on his cheek. She smiled to herself as she grabbed the bottle of Blood-Replenishing Draught and poured some out onto the spoon.

Luckily, she was able to administer three spoonfuls of it to him without trouble, though the look on his face now seemed disgusted. She chuckled lightly to herself as he moaned and tossed his head once to the left and then back to the right.

"I never said my help would taste good," Hermione joked as she looked to the bottles that were left.

'_I can't very well give him the Invigoration Draught while he's sleeping because that'll wake him before the Murtlap's had a chance to set in._' Alternatively, Hermione replaced the corks on all the bottles and put them back into the black bag. She thought about going back to her room, but figured that she should stay with Tom in case he woke up. '_But I can't very well sit here with nothing to do._' Standing, Hermione sighed and hid the bag under the bed before heading to the door.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she whispered before unlocking it and leaving. She went straight for the library, grabbed a few books whose titles looked somewhat interesting and was on her way back to his room when Mary and Janessa came around the corner.

"There you are!" hissed Janessa.

"Where've you been?" asked Mary, releasing a relaxed sigh as she looked at Hermione.

"Um-"

"Never mind that," she continued. "You should be in bed."

"But I want to go see-"

"You can see your father and Aramis in the morning," Janessa cut off.

"No!" Hermione said with a tone of finality. "I mean," she added when she saw their surprised faces, "I want to stay with Aramis tonight. I'm worried about him." Mary's face softened, but Janessa seemed weary of the request. "He did the same for me," Hermione continued.

"Very well, then," Mary nodded as she grabbed the other maid by the elbow and let Hermione pass.

She went on her way back to Tom's room, looking back over her shoulder to see her ladies in waiting going in the opposite direction. She felt somewhat guilty for being so nasty to them lately, but they seemed to be thwarting her efforts every time she turned around. She had no choice but to be like that to them. Shaking her head, Hermione rounded the corner and headed straight back to Riddle's room, not checking for anyone before she locked the door. When she turned around, she got quite an eye-opening shock.

He was out of bed with his back to her as he looked for something. He had a sheet from the bed wrapped around his waist, and when he heard the door's lock click, he whipped around and gaped at her. Both appeared speechless, taken aback even. Hermione was the first to touch reality once again and instantly turned her back to him.

"S-Sorry," she fumbled as she waited for him to do something.

When she heard no sound from him, she looked back over her shoulder. She immediately wished she hadn't as she saw Riddle with his back turned to her as well, but this time the sheet wasn't there. He had obviously found what he was looking for, which was his clothes, and he was preparing to dress while she had her back turned.

Her head snapped back around while her eyes bulged in her head. She swallowed, trying to keep the nervous knot down in her stomach. Her mouth was suddenly very dry, and what was worse, she couldn't get the picture of him standing there completely naked out of her head. Hermione repeatedly hit her forehead with her palm, trying to knock the image from her brain, but it wouldn't budge. Her mind's eye just kept roaming over his body; from the head of pitch-black hair and down his perfect neck to his strong looking shoulders. She shook her head, but it kept moving. From his shoulders and down the middle of his lean torso to the slight dip of his lower back. She continued to pound her head with her palm, but to no avail; her mental eye kept on going. From the dip of his lower back to the curve of his butt and down to his somewhat muscular legs.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione groaned.

"What?" Tom asked somewhat incoherently. Hermione was completely flustered, and her face was the color of a ripe red apple. "You can turn around, Granger," he said.

"Uh... er... are you, uh... you know, dressed?" Hermione stuttered, unable to remove the image from her head still. It was as though it had been burned into her brain.

"Yes."

She turned slowly upon hearing this and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed. She frowned deeply as her mind continued to run the image through her head, making it difficult and uncomfortable for her to walk over and sit by him.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, giving a wince of pain as he stretched his shoulder a bit. "You act like I'm contagious or something."

"I... you're... you see... it... oh bother," she sighed.

"Okay," Riddle remarked, confused as he shook his head.

"Does your shoulder feel better?" she inquired. She was trying to bring up something that was less awkward at the moment.

"Not much better," he replied. "Though I'm sure it'll be fine soon."

"Yes, it should. I took the liberty of going to Bluffshire and getting you some healing products to fix it, and I gave you some already, butt- oh!" Hermione groaned, closing her eyes and hanging her head as she sighed with embarrassment.

"Is it hot in here or something? You keep going all red," Tom pointed out. "And but what?"

"Your bu- I mean," Hermione exclaimed, trying to correct herself. "I mean... it shouldn't be better until tomorrow, so I'll come back and check on you then. Until that time, good night and get some rest," she babbled quickly. Her rattled nature was growing worse by the minute. She rose from her chair beside where he was seated on the bed and headed for the door as speedily as possible. She fumbled in a nervous manner with the lock for a few moments before exhaling heavily in frustration. Tom, bewildered as he was, got up and let her out, unsure of just what he had done.

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Hermione had slept fitfully all that night. She kept dreaming of herself stuttering and acting strange in front of Riddle while he unclothed before her and oblivious to the fact that he was. She sat up in bed; the sun's first rays beaming through the windows as she rubbed her face in a tired, thwarted manner. She felt utterly ridiculous and completely stupid. 

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and before Hermione could get out of bed, Tom came in. He was smiling as though he knew something she didn't, which only served to make her feel more idiotic. '_Oh, the mere irony of this moronic situation._' She cursed inwardly as she hung her head and closed her eyes.

"What makes you so chipper this morning?" Hermione asked, looking reluctantly up at him.

"Only that I'm better," he replied as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Whoa!" she half gasped, half yelled.

"What?" he demanded. "I was just going to show you this," he continued as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and exposed his shoulder. Hermione, however, had covered her eyes with her hands and was rocking back and forth upon the bed. "What is your problem?" he barked.

"Nothing," she replied, removing her hands from her eyes while expecting to see him with his shirt fully on. He still had his shirt half off, however, which made her groan inwardly with discomfort. Riddle stepped closer to her and leaned his shoulder closer.

"See? It's gone!" he grinned. "I feel _loads_ better, and to think, all I did was drink that bottle of Invigoration Draught."

"You didn't drink all of it, did you?" Hermione asked as though she already knew the answer. "How did you find that anyways?"

"I was looking for my boots when I spotted the bag under the bed. And yes, I drank all of it. Why?" he replied.

"Tom! I needed that for the King!" she said, sounding exasperated and unpleasantly stunned. If he had drank it all as he had said, that now meant there was neither Murtlap Essence nor Invigoration Draught for the King. How in the world would Hermione be able to get more of the potions or even the ingredients needed for them? Surely Barth the Healer would have Aurors attack her as soon as she gave the impression that she was thinking of heading towards his shop.

"Well, we'll go get more," Tom spoke up.

"We can't."

"Why not?" he asked, feeling that he really didn't want to know why.


	28. The King's Conditions

**A/N:** Chapter 28 has its thanks to hand out to those who reviewed for its predecessor: _.o0Aurelie0o., LandUnderWave, Charming-Lynn, Gueneviere, marauder'sbabe, ellamalfoy8, fizznsoot, Skavnema, libaka, The Almighty Cheez It, the. dead. addict., pottersgirl91, o0Dreamer0o, Lolaleddir, simply2die4, arushi, bumblebee115, nehimasgift, _and _Vera-Sabe_ (It's nice to hear from the _real_ Mima. Glad you've been following along, hun!).

Well, here it is, enjoy it while I write Chapter 29 and watch it snow to Christmas carols by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, lol.

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**Chapter 28 – The King's Conditions**

"Why not?" Hermione repeated in an almost nervous manner. "Tom, you see, I sort of got into a teeny, tiny, _little_ bit of... er... um... trouble."

"What kind of trouble, Granger?" he asked while sounding a great deal like Mrs. Weasley. Hermione gaped like a fish out of water. What was she supposed to say to him? Should she really tell him that she insulted a Healer, punched him, and then stole his healing products? She chewed her lip and twisted her fingers together as she pondered just what to say. "I'm still waiting," Tom's voice cracked.

She winced a little, feeling a great deal like a child who was caught stealing candy.

"I-I-"

"You what?" he barked, making her jump. He didn't like waiting, especially when she was withholding information.

"I punched the Healer because he refused to come back to the castle and help you and the King. Then I took his bag of healing stuff and left!" Hermione spat quickly, almost too fast for him to hear.

"You did what?" Riddle roared. "Granger! How... how could you?"

"Well, he wasn't going to come to the castle because the Duchess lives here, and he has this grudge against her over his dead brother," she babbled. The more she opened her mouth and explained, the more things became more dramatic, much like a bad soap opera. "So I got angry. What else should I have done?"

"Maybe try and persuade him before you knock his front teeth out!" he suggested angrily.

"I didn't knock his front teeth out," she muttered in defense. "I... broke his nose."

"Oh ho!" Tom exclaimed with a bitter bark of laugher. "Like it makes a difference. You punched him all the same." She said nothing to this as he threw his hands in the air and walked away towards her dresser. He stood there a moment with his elbows resting upon the piece of furniture and his head in his hands. Riddle appeared to be thinking as he massaged his temples and pulled at the hair above his ears. "All right," he breathed, turning to face her once more. "This is what we're going to do... now listen carefully." He approached her, staring down at her to assure that he had her attention. "You're going to take me to that fellow down in the town so I can get to Bluffshire just like you did. After that, you're going to wait there while I go to the Healer and get some potions for that dunderhead you're pretending is your father."

"He's not a dunder-"

"Quiet, Granger!" Tom commanded. "Just... _listen_. When I return, we're going to come up to the castle. You're going to fake fainting so that I can get those awful women they call nurses out of my hair. I'm going to administer the Muggle some of the potions I get and then we're going to sit back and relax while pretending that we know nothing of his speedy recovery. Understand?" She nodded a couple of times before watching him sigh and rub his face. "Come along... I need something to eat; that damn Invigoration Draught has made me dreadfully famished."

Hermione rose somberly from the bed and followed him from the room. They were headed down the corridor when she began tugging on his sleeve.

"What is it?" he hissed as she insisted that he stay quiet. She pointed to a door which she had visited the night before. The library. From inside came voices of rage. Both the voices were male, and both were equally venomous. Hermione and Riddle sneaked forward, still unable to hear anything clearly enough to make out words. Pushing the door open enough for the two of them to slip in, she entered the room and headed for one of the three stacks of books. They hid behind it, peering through the shelves to try and spot who the voices belonged to. Hermione's eyes were the first to see the culprits.

"It's Mardon and Porthos," she whispered in Tom's ear. He shivered a bit and gave her a look from the corner of his eye, but she was too busy watching the two furious men argue to notice. Shaking off the momentary distraction, Riddle busied himself with listening in on the General and his son.

"Is it true?" demanded Mardon.

"How should I know, Father?" Porthos snapped. "I don't keep watch over that ridiculous excuse for a soldier. In case you forget, it's my job to watch that brat they call a princess, not him."

"And that's exactly why you can't keep a close eye on her," the General growled. "Because you don't keep your enemies closer. You've let that blundering boy, Aramis, slip in next to that snot-nosed Princess, and you couldn't have made it much easier for him."

"Well, if it's so bloody easy, then why don't you do it yourself, you great dolt," the blond haired boy argued.

"Watch your tongue," Mardon warned as he wagged a finger in his son's face face. "I'm your father, and you'll do well to remember the kind of power I have over you." Porthos said nothing to this, instead he merely folded his arms over his chest and glared at the wall of books next to him. "Now," the General continued. "I don't know how that idiotic boy got better because it was certainly no miracle like those wench nurses said it was, but I want you to have him taken out."

"How exactly should I go about that?" Porthos snarled. "Have you truly lost your memory? The assassins fled northward, so I can't exactly employ their help, and I reject the very idea of ridding ourselves of him with my two hands."

"No gall whatsoever," Mardon grumbled more to himself than the sapphire eyed boy before him. "Fine, fine, you don't have to take him out yourself. _I'll_ take care of him and remove him from our presence like he should have been in the first place. I blame you for the fact that he's still here." Porthos snorted angrily and pressed his arms tight against his chest. He seemed to be restraining himself from punching his father. "Why, if it hadn't been for Aramis, we would have had the King dead by now," the General went on. "There would have been enough poison in his system from those arrows to do him in." Tom felt a fire burst in his stomach. His hands balled into fists without his brain's consent, and Hermione had to push down forcefully upon his shoulder to get him to stay in place.

"Then why not slip the King some poison in his food?" remarked Porthos.

"That's exactly what I plan to do," the older man smirked. "And I think I'll even give our dear friend Aramis some as well." This time Hermione had a little more trouble keeping Riddle in his place. She grabbed his wrists and hung on for dear life as he fought to get loose. During their small struggle, his elbow knocked a book from the shelf behind them, and it fell to the floor with a loud, startling smack. Eyes growing wide, the pair glanced to Porthos and Mardon who were looking around in alarm for the source of the disturbance.

"Run!" Tom hissed. Hermione moved swiftly down the row of books, her feet barely taking time to touch the floor. Riddle was right behind her, but he wasn't quite quick enough.

"My, my... Aramis," the General called as he came around the corner of the bookshelf. "Doing a bit of reading?" he asked as he stooped and picked up the book that had been knocked down.

"As a matter of fact, I was," he replied silkily, turning around to face the General and his sour-faced son.

"Then read up on this," Mardon commented maliciously. "I'm not sure how much you heard of this conversation, but you'll do well to remove it from your mind... forget it completely. It's in the best interest of your life." He pushed a finger into Tom's chest, but Riddle stood tall and refused to sway no matter how hard the pompous airhead before him pushed. Displeased with the retaliation he was being shown, the General drilled his finger into Tom's newly healed shoulder, twisting it as he resumed his force. Riddle grit his teeth, trying to show no reaction, but he was betrayed as his upper lip twitched and his pupils dilated because of the pain. Even if his shoulder had been healed, the area was still bruised and somewhat tender. "By the way," Mardon added. "As your General, that's an order not a request, soldier, and should you disobey it, then I'll have you removed from the premises as well as the ranks. Have I made myself clea-"

"Aramis!" Hermione called from the other end of the aisle. "There you are." She approached the three men, a graceful smile on her lips. "I've found a book for my father... come along now. We must go visit him." Tom looked at her for a moment before glancing back vehemently at Porthos and his father. "Gentlemen," she spoke softly as she linked arms with Riddle and pulled him away. They continued down the row of books, arms locked and not looking back. Once they were out of the library, Hermione and Tom headed for the kitchens. On the way, they were silent; the only sound between the two was the fall of their footsteps resounding off the walls.

"We have to keep an eye on them, you know," she pointed out. "And the King."

"I can't believe those bastards poisoned the arrows," he grumbled. "I can't wait to hex their heads off their necks."

"Well, we'll have to save that for a later time," she sighed as they entered the kitchen. They seated themselves at the small table, and she laid the book down as Mary came over to them. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Mary," Hermione began. "Could we get some breakfast served here?"

"I'll have Janessa bring it to you as soon as it's done," the maid replied without hesitation. "I'm going to collect the laundry." She left them in silence once more, Hermione's eyes glued upon the chef in boredom. She watched as he cooked breakfast while Tom picked up the book and began flipping through the pages. His eyes growing wider and wider with each new turn.

"I don't know if you should take this to the King," he laughed. "Least not right now while he's in the condition he is."

"Hmm?" She had not really been paying attention, in fact, she almost forgot Riddle was sitting there with her. "Not that I intended to, but why not?"

"Take a look," he snickered while sliding the book to her. She picked it up and began reading down the page. Her eyes sort of popped with each new word that she saw. Hastily turning the page, her jaw dropped. Hermione slammed the book shut and shoved it back across the table at Tom; her mouth was now completely dry. Inside the book that she had randomly picked up as an excuse to save Riddle from Mardon were pictures of the human anatomy, all very detailed with extensive writings on each body part including its functions, description, and other such things. Immediately, her mind set to work making her feel ironically guilty and stupid. She could see the words she had read in her head, and each time a new word came into view, the vision of Tom naked popped into her head.

"What a cruel irony," she groaned, dropping her head down onto the table.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, flipping through the book once more with no shame whatsoever.

"Don't embarrass me further by acting like you don't know just to make me say it," she mumbled with her forehead still resting on the table, muffling her voice.

"Seriously, Granger, I don't know," he chuckled. "What's a cruel irony?"

"C'mon now," Hermione drawled, feeling a little fed up with his faked coy front.

"What?" he demanded, ire beginning to get the better of him from his continual nagging at her to answer him.

"You're a real cad, you know that?" she snapped.

"Well, it's not nice to harbor inside jokes in front of others," he retaliated. "If you aren't going to tell me what's bothering you, then don't say anything about it in front of me."

"Oh, Tom, honestly! You're just acting dumb so that I'll fess up and say that I saw you without any clothes on last ni-" She stopped. Her mouth hung open, and her eyes bugged out. His eyebrows shot to the middle of his forehead as his ears turned a strange coral pink.

"Y-yo-you what?" he stuttered. She closed her mouth instantly, feeling it go horribly dry. Her face was on fire, and her stomach was doing an odd dance with a group of butterflies.

"I really should be leaving now," she stated as she stood up and started towards the door.

"Oh, no, wait just a minute," he ordered as he, too, rose from his seat. She, however, was too slick on this occasion. Ducking past Janessa, who was bring their breakfast, and almost knocking the tray from the maid's hands, Hermione ran for the door. Riddle was sure to follow though, chasing after her until they were almost to the King's room. "If you don't stop," Tom called to her. "I'm going to jinx your feet right out from under you." Hermione froze in the middle of the corridor while knowing full well that he would make good on that threat. She didn't dare look back at him though; she didn't want to see his face, and she certainly didn't want to show her own to him. It was bad enough that she even had to listen to his voice after slipping up and telling him her embarrassing secret. "First of all, you don't tell someone you saw them in all their indecency and then go skiving off like an utter imbecile," he huffed, coming to stand in front of her. "And second, what the bloody hell were you doing looking at me like that anyways? I could have swore that you had your back turned to me when I started dressing. I knew I should have made you wait outside!"

"It's not like I meant to! I just looked back over my shoulder and there you were... I didn't know you were getting dressed at the time."

"What did you think I was doing when I was out of bed in nothing but a sheet looking at the floor?"

"Oh, I don't know! You're Tom Riddle, you could have been plotting someone's death for all I can imagine," Hermione argued while wishing she could just go back to her room and hide until all the embarrassment disappeared. "All I saw was the back of you... I mean, you weren't saying anything or making any noise, so I looked back to see if you were maybe back in bed or something."

"Making any noise?" he repeated incredulously. "What was I suppose to be doing? Singing soprano? I didn't know someone had to make noise while they were getting dressed."

"Well, it's not normal for someone to be deathly quiet while they're clothing themselves either," she snapped. Tom grunted and shook his head in annoyance.

"Well, the next time you're around, and I'm doing something remotely like getting dressed, then I'll make sure that I recite the ingredients to every Merlin forsaken potion I know while playing Exploding Snap."

"Perhaps you should do just that then!" She exhaled with frustration as she turned to leave, but the sound of a door opening and releasing voices from a room caught her attention. She turned around and saw the Duke and Duchess headed her way. Both were looking grave, but they still tried to put on happy faces as they approached the younger couple.

"Ah, Anastasia... there you are," Rodmilla beamed. "We were just about to go look for you."

"Yes. Your father is awake and wishes to see you," Rodden picked up. "He's right in there, child. Do try to keep him calm and high spirited though."

"Hush!" the Duchess scolded. "You'll scare her," she added in a whisper. Hermione said nothing, only nodded as she stepped past them and put her hand on the door handle. She twisted it slowly, feeling that she really didn't want to enter the room where her supposed-to-be father was laying in bed with an illness hanging about him. She swallowed the constricting lump in her throat and looked to Tom.

"I'll wait out here if you need me," he assured her as he walked over to her and sat down on the floor next to the door.

Hermione made no move for a few seconds after as the Duke and Duchess watched her, waiting on her to enter the room. She pushed at the handle, and the door swung inward slowly and mutely. The room inside was bright, and she instantly thought of some heavenly place which made her breathing falter. Riddle nudged her leg with his elbow, urging her to move. She jumped a bit at his touch and realized that she should go, so with a step forward, she walked into the room and shut the door behind her.

"Ana, love," the King spoke gently, sounding weak. "I didn't think they would find you so fast. I figured you'd be off with Aramis. I hear from the Duke and the nurses that he's recovered nicely."

"Yes, quite well, in fact," Hermione replied as she walked towards the bed.

"Come, come, sit down," he offered as he struggled to move over in bed. A sweat glistened on his face which was a magenta shade except for the area around his eyes that was tinted with an almost blackish purple. It was from a lack of sleep and probably the sickness; Hermione was sure. She frowned and sat down on the bed, placing her hand atop the King's. He wrapped his fingers lightly around hers and smiled faintly. "I need to speak with you, darling," he uttered. His breaths were becoming labored so she grabbed a pitcher of water and poured him a glass. She tipped it to his lips, and he drank, patting her knee to let her know when to stop. She sat the glass down and wiped his face with a damp cloth before he continued. "I'm not trying to scare you, but my fever's only gotten worse in the past night and sleep isn't coming easily. The nurses fear the worst for me, and I'm afraid that I won't make it back home. The Duke and Duchess have assured me that should anything happen to me before the plans I have laid out are put to motion, they will take you under their wing and care for you until you accept the throne as queen."

"Queen?" Hermione repeated fretfully. She had known what would happen should the King pass, but to hear him say it only made her fear the reality in it. "But I'm hardly old enough."

"Now Ana, you know that age isn't something that matters here; you're the heir to the throne. Why my grandmother was fourteen when she married and took the throne, and my mother was sixteen... and her grandmother only seventeen. My father was but fifteen when h-"

"All right... I understand," she interrupted, trying to keep him calm.

"So in the event that my death arrives, you are to be married no less than a month after," he continued.

"What?" she gasped.

"Oh, love, you know that's what has to be done... you've always known. A lady cannot take the throne as queen unless she has a king to rule beside her and help her bear the next heir to our country's crown. It's been that way for centuries because our ancestors didn't see it fit for a lady to dabble in affairs of war or such without a strong and willful man to help her, and unless you follow protocol, then I'm afraid there'll be quite a bit of trouble as we have no one to really take the throne after you." He paused; she got him another drink and wiped his face once more. The King only took a moment or two more to settle himself before he pressed on. "You have no cousins, no brothers or sisters, and no aunts or uncles that could succeed the throne before you. It is your born duty to take the throne and produce a healthy, rightful heir. That is why I wish you to marry."

"But what if I don't find someone?"

"Dear heart, you will," he breathed with a smile on his face that said he wanted to laugh, but couldn't. "You're as beautiful as your mother was, just like her, in fact. With your wonderful personality and outstanding brains, you'll find someone by the end of the day I bet."

Hermione smiled faintly, her eyes tearing up. Here was a man, laying before her, ready to die, and he thought that he was talking to his actual daughter. Her lip quivered, and a tear slipped from the pool in her eye. The King reached his arms up to her the best he could in a gesture that told her he expected a hug. She leaned down, oddly feeling it her duty to make this man happy before he passed away. She hugged him tightly and then stood from the bed, wiping away the tears that were beginning to slide down the curve of her cheeks. Hermione squeezed his hand and helped him take one last drink before she left the room, closing the door noiselessly behind her.

Tom jumped to his feet and faced her, waiting to hear what she had to say, but she said nothing. She threw her arms around him rather and buried her face in his neck. She felt awful for lying to the King about being his daughter; awful that he was deceived into thinking she was his flesh and blood. Now here he lay dying and depending on her to carry on his legacy. Hermione felt terrible, too, because somewhere his real daughter had no idea that her father was passing.

Riddle placed his hand on her back just between her shoulder blades and rubbed gently. He wasn't sure what happened, but he wouldn't push her to tell. At least not just yet. He knew she was troubled horribly about something though as he felt the hot tears pierce his shirt. He would be there for her when she was ready to talk, whenever that was, but the real dilemma was, would he want to be there to hear it?


	29. Back to Baltor's

**A/N:** Wow, it's been over two weeks since I last updated this. Shame on me! Anyways, I'm not going to waste anymore time seeing as I've got ideas for Chapter 30, and I want to get back to writing a.s.a.p. Thank you to: _Cryptic Sarcasm, the. dead. addict., .o0Aurelie0o., Featherstrike, libaka, nehimasgift, LandUnderWave, Skavnema, Silver Tears 11, marauder'sbabe, AMistressMalfoy, The Almighty Cheez It, Charming-Lynn, Gueneviere, arushi, KoolAidNightmare_ (I think of Dane Cook when I type your name, lol),_ o0Dreamer0o, Lolaleddir, fizznsoot, Neko-Mitsuko, pottersgirl91, The daughter of Slytherin, _and a special thank you to _Vera-Sabe_ for repairing my brain from writer's block damage. Now, on to the story... enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 29 – Back to Baltor's**

"Hermione?" Tom spoke softly into her ear. "Are you all ri-"

"We need to get to Baltor's," she interrupted, lifting her head from his shoulder and wiping her face.

"Baltor?"

"The man in town," she said as she backed away from him. "Now. We need to go now." She turned and started to walk away when he grabbed her wrist, preventing her from going any further.

"You're fine just like that?" he asked, still uncertain as to what was wrong with her in the first place and how she could get over whatever it was so fast.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied. "So please don't waste anymore time, and let's get going." He released her wrist from his gentle grasp and started to follow her down the corridor, unsure if he should strike up a conversation as to what they intended to do. Opting to be quiet, Riddle began plotting out what he would do once he got to Bluffshire. They were in the entrance hall when Rodmilla's two dogs came running after them, barking and slipping some as they went across the highly polished floor.

"Not them again," he groaned as he turned and prepared to dodge the dogs, but he didn't need to work too hard as Hermione's ladies in waiting came running behind the tiny, hairy beasts.

"Get them!" Mary panted as she cut one off in its path so that it ran for Hermione, who stooped and grabbed the dog before handing it to Mary as Janessa dove across the floor, intercepting the other. Standing, she took the dog she caught to the other maid, who took them both into her arms.

"What on earth are you doing chasing those little nuisances around?" Tom inquired while glaring at the dog on the left as it barked loudly at him.

"The Duchess... asked us to... bathe them," one of the maids sputtered as she tried to catch her breath. "Where... where are you two going?"

"Just into town," Hermione answered vaguely.

"Into town!" shouted Janessa.

"Shh!" Riddle hissed.

"But you can't," Mary argued. "With those assassins still out there, they would be after you, too, Princess. You're not to leave the castle."

"They would have shot at me as well if they had really wanted to get me," Hermione spoke up.

"No, you're not going," Janessa denied.

"Hey, isn't that the Duchess right there?" Tom lied quickly, pointing somewhere behind the maids, which made them spin around in alarm. While they were distracted, Riddle grabbed Hermione by the arm and led her out the front doors. The pair raced towards the stables as the ladies in waiting called out to them. Knowing that Mary and Janessa wouldn't run after them, Tom and Hermione took the time to properly saddle the horses. Once mounted, they rode off quickly.

Tethering their horses at the post on the edge of town, Riddle and Hermione set off towards Baltor's shop. The streets were busy for this time of morning, but that only made it easier for the pair to get through the town unnoticed. They slipped into Baltor's shop; the clerk yelling from the back.

"Welcome! Feel free to browse around... I'll be out shortly."

"Baltor?" Hermione called back. There was no response from the clerk, but there was the sound of boxes shuffling across the floor and a moment later, his head poked out of the curtain to the back room.

"Oh, it's you... and you," he said as he looked from Hermione to Tom. "Nice to see you're feeling better. What of your father?"

"That's why we're here. I need you to take my friend to Bluffshire so that he can get some potions from the Healer," she explained.

"I'm afraid that's going to be a little impossible," replied Baltor. "The Healer left town... said he needed time away from the town and the mad people that wandered through it." Riddle gave her a pointed look from the corner of his eye and watched her shrink some as he spoke up.

"What about getting some ingredients for the potions and a book to tell me how to brew them?" he suggested.

"That might be possible."

"Will you take him there, then?" Hermione inquired.

"Aye, I will," Baltor nodded, gesturing for the younger man to follow him. "Can I trust you to watch my shop? There's a sign laying under the till that you can put into the window to keep customers out until we return." Hermione followed Baltor to the counter and took the sign he handed her, muttering her farewell to them as they entered the back room. She crossed the shop, locked the door, and placed the sign into the window. With that, she entered the rear of the shop to await their return.

* * *

Porthos entered the kitchen with a shifty gaze set on the cook as he stirred a pot of soup. 

"Is lunch finished yet?" the young guard asked. The cook looked up at his words and shook his head.

"Should be in a few minutes, but it won't be served for at least another eighteen," the chef replied.

"Oh... would it be possible for me to get some early?" Porthos inquired.

"Certainly, young man," the older man answered, becoming annoyed with the presence of such an inquisitive little hindrance. The cook scooped out some of the soup, ladling it into a bowl and setting it upon a tray with a glass of water and some bread heels. He pushed the tray towards the blue eyed boy and forced a none too pleasant grimace that was meant to be a smile before returning to preparing lunch.

Porthos grabbed the tray with a snide smirk and left the kitchen. He stopped in the corridor, peering around suspiciously before turning and entering a nearby storage cupboard. Once inside the silent safety of the broom closet, he pulled out a small bottle from the inside breast pocket of his uniform. The edges of the bottle's label were worn and beginning to peel away, but the big, black, bold letters which read 'Rat Poison – Toxic' were still visible. Below these words was a skull with crossbones in the same black print, and anyone who saw them knew that the contents of the bottle were deadly. Porthos pulled carefully at the cork board stopper to unplug the bottle; he tipped it over the bowl of steaming soup, pouring a fourth of the rat poison into it. Replacing the cork, he sat the bottle of toxin upon a shelf, careful to hide it behind a mop bucket. He left the closet; his destination the King's quarters as he fixed a sinisterly sweet smirk upon his face.

* * *

Tom and Hermione came walking out of the stables. Riddle was in slight outrage, and she was looking paler than usual; it was like she had seen a ghost which predicted her emanate and early death. She was worried about something obviously, and as she fiddled nervously with the hem of her sleeve, they entered the castle in silence. He marched ahead of her in a stubborn manner as they headed for her room. On the way there, they ran into a rather unwanted sight. The Duke was standing in the corridor with Porthos who was holding a tray of food. The older man was seemingly commending the younger for being a 'caring young lad' as Porthos tried to excuse himself while saying something about the King and lunch. Tom looked to Hermione, but she was no longer beside him. Instead, she was approaching the two other males, a polite and graceful smile on her lips. 

"Why, Porthos," she began. "Did I hear you say that you were taking lunch to my father?"

"Yes, he did," the Duke answered for him in a beaming manner. "Isn't that so nice of him? Shows upstanding moral value that he would care for the King of his country so. A terrific soldier who doesn't only give time to his country's military, but gives time to ensure that his country's ruler is safe and healthy."

"Most certainly," Hermione agreed. "But I was just going to see him for a private conversation, so I'll take that." She gestured to the tray, still showing a genteel expression even as Porthos narrowed his eyes on her.

"Ah, but let me carry it up to his majesty for you," came his sneering offer as an irritated glint sparkled in his eyes. "This is really too hot for you, and it wouldn't do to have you carry this up to your father like a mere servant girl."

"Not to worry, Aramis will be accompanying me, so he'll carry it. Won't you, Aramis?" she cued to Tom, who stepped forward with a superior smirk as he held out his hands for the tray. When Porthos made no move to give it up, Riddle stepped closer and grabbed the food and its platter. There was a second's pause as the blond's grip remained tight on the handles, both youthful men glaring at one another. Reluctantly, Porthos gave up the small battle and let Tom have it. He turned back to Hermione, triumphant and smirking cheekily as he spoke up.

"Shall we get going before this soup gets cold?"

"Absolutely," she commented before biding Rodden and Porthos good day. Riddle and Hermione walked around the corner and out of sight, pretending to be heading for the King's room, but they really went straight to Hermione's quarters. "That little bugger," she huffed once they were inside with the door shut. "It hasn't even been a full day, and they're already trying to do that man in." She walked over to Tom, who was still holding the tray, and removed the bowl of soup from the tray before taking it carefully over to the window. As she dumped it to the ground below, he joined her and threw the bread heels out the window as well. Birds flocked down from the roof and began fighting for the food on the ground while kicking up dust and twittering madly. Hermione grabbed the glass of water and tossed the clear liquid into the air as well before sitting the tray, empty glass, and bowl on the window sill. "I'll just have to have Mary and Janessa keep an extra close watch on what food goes to the King and tell them that I want it delivered by them personally."

"In the meantime," Tom remarked in a biting tone, "we need to scrape up some money to buy potion ingredients."

"Oh, will you quit patronizing me?" she hissed, catching the edgy accusation of his pitch. "Getting the money will be no trouble at all."

"But getting the potions will be the trouble," he continued in the same angered way.

"Just stop it! Don't you think I feel guilt as it is?" she snapped.

"You bloody well should!"

"Well, I do, so shut up!"

"Don't tell me to shut up," Riddle objected. "It was you who punched the man. If you had shut up and kept better control of yourself, he wouldn't have decided he needed a vacation, now would he?" Hermione bit her tongue and pursed her lips; her eyes shooting daggers at the dark haired boy before her.

"Sometimes I wish I had cured the King instead," she grumbled.

"Sometimes I wish you had, too," he barked. "I would have rather died than put up with your stupidity."

"Bugger off, you great ignorant prat!" she snarled.

"Gladly," Tom replied in an uncaring gesture as he turned and headed for the door. "Your highness," he added in a mocking tone.

"Wait! Are you seriously leaving?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I welcome the chance to be away from you so that I can actually think without hearing your annoying little voice blabbering about how it's not your fault that we have to brew the potions in Baltor's shop," he explained as though she were an utter idiot. "And by the way... it is your fault." Hermione said nothing to this as he gave her no chance to when he left the room swiftly. She exhaled in exhaustion before turning to the window; the sound of the birds was once again dominant in the silence that enveloped her and the room. Grabbing the empty tray, she left her bedroom, heading to the kitchen so that she could really get the King something to eat.

* * *

Hermione sat in her room upon her bed, a book propped up on her thighs, but her eyes weren't scanning the words. Instead, her head was leaned back and staring at the canopy of the bed. Her visit with the King when she had took him his real lunch was eye opening for her. It had showed her that the King really was getting no better as he coughed and wheezed his way through the small talk that they made as she fed him; his own hand had been too unsteady to lift the spoonfuls of soup to his mouth. How long would he last? Would he last the week that she and Tom needed him to while they waited on the apothecary in Bluffshire to get two of the ingredients that was required to brew Murtlap Essence and an Invigoration Draught? She doubted it, but if he did, it was a pure miracle.

What then drifted into her mind again was something that the King kept talking to her about constantly. A choice for her husband. Never had she thought that this was the way things would be for her. She had always pictured herself in a white wedding gown; slim fit and simple to make it traditional. Her mother putting little pieces of white Baby's Breath in her curly, elegant hair before placing a veil on her head; then walking out of the bride's room to be greeted by her father, who would walk her down the aisle as the wedding march played. She had even pictured a red-headed boy with freckles and a broad, bashful, lopsided smile waiting on her at the alter. But it wouldn't be that way now.

Now she faced picking someone to marry just for the sake of being able to have a husband to ascend the throne with and not for love. There was no more imagining her mother putting her veil on for her. Mary and Janessa would more than likely take that place; if not, she would end up doing it by herself. There was no more picturing her father greeting her and walking her down the aisle to the traditional song. Instead, she would probably have some estranged person walk her down the aisle if anyone did at all, and it would probably be deadly silent with all eyes, which would make her extremely nervous. There would be no tears of joy, but tears of sorrow at how her dreams of a perfect, little white wedding had been dashed. No happy honeymoon after the ceremony, but rather another stiff, unwanted occasion to induct her as the Queen. And no lifetime of smiles and raising a loving family, but a lifetime of ruling a country that wasn't rightfully hers and producing an heir with a man that she couldn't possibly feel truly comfortable with.

Her eyes watered at the mere thought, and when she thought about who would replace that smiling red head at the alter, she surprised herself. Suddenly not everything seemed so bad. Maybe she could have at least half of that happy marriage she had planned. Hastily wiping away the tears that were just beginning to fall from her chocolate orbs, she climbed out of bed and raced off to the King's bedroom.

"I've made my decision!" she exclaimed as she burst into the room where his majesty lay in bed.

"Anastasia, please," a nurse sibilated. "You'll get him all worked-"

"Silence," the King commanded, though his tone was weak. "I want to hear what my daughter has to say."

"I've made my choice as to whom I'm going to marry," Hermione repeated.

"Come then... tell me," he urged, barely able to get the last part of the sentence out as he coughed. Hermione grinned and blushed slightly as she gave her answer, making the King smile fondly through his wheezing as he nodded his approval.

* * *

Tom stretched as he let his feet touch the cold floor. It seemed to have no effect on him as he rose from the sheets without so much as a shivered withdraw from the cool touch and headed towards his wardrobe where his uniform hung pressed and ready for the day. Adorning the attire, he sat on the bed to put on his newly shined boots when a knock sounded at the door. 

"Come... in," he said as he shoved his foot into the boot. Mary peaked into the room with her timid face gazing at him in a somewhat bashful manner.

"The King would like to see you, sir," she announced as she opened the door fully and stood stalk still in the doorway.

"What for?" he asked, not really thinking about the response before it slipped from his tongue.

"He didn't say," she replied. "He just said that I was to go fetch you and take you back to him so that he could speak with you."

'_Fetch me?_' Tom thought somewhat angrily. '_I'm not an object that you throw for an animal. I'm a human being._' Shaking his head slightly, he rose from the bed and followed her out the door. They walked along the corridor in a quiet pattern; the only sound trailing them was the clop of his boots and the labored breathing of Mary who had apparently ran to his room to get him.

"Here you are," she said as she turned to face Riddle. "Congratulations by the way," she added as she walked away.

"Congratulations?" he repeated. "For what?" She never answered; she just walked away to go back to her chores or whatever she had to do. His brow knitted, but he shrugged it off and straightened himself, putting on an emotionless expression before knocking on the door to the King's room.

"Enter." Tom opened the door and stepped in, waiting for the bed-ridden man to address him. "Shut the door, son, and come here," he instructed as he nodded to a chair where the nurse usually sat. Riddle came forward, taking a seat like the King wanted him to. There was a moment's pause where the only sound that could be heard was that of the King's was labored and uneven breathing and the distant footsteps of someone out in the hallway. "Well," sighed the King before clearing his throat. "My daughter has-" The door opened, interrupting him. He cleared his throat again as a nurse entered the room carrying some fresh bandages in her arms along with two bottles of medicine.

"It's time for your tonic and some salve for your wound, sire," she informed.

"In a bit, Natalia," the elderly man spoke softly, pausing to take a calming breath. "I need to talk to Aramis for just a moment."

"But-," she began to object when his majesty gave her a gentle look that had a slight edge of finality. "Yes, sire," she mumbled before inclining her head to him and leaving the room. Once the sound of the door lightly thudding shut ended her presence, the King coughed again and proceeded.

"Now, where were we?"

"You said something about your daughter," Tom answered.

"Yes, yes, I remember," he picked up, inhaling deeply. "I've noticed since my Ana has come home that the two of you are quite close." Riddle nodded, showing his understanding as the King paused for a second. "Ana informed me last night that there's a reason for this." Eyes narrowing, the younger, dark haired man was sure to pay close attention to what the older was about to say. "She's pleaded my approval for your marriage."

"Our what?" Tom choked.

"Your marriage, boy," the King repeated. "Don't act so surprised... I'm sure you would have liked to have talked to me first, but she felt it necessary to inform me in a prompt manner." Riddle gaped; that's all he could do. Hermione had told the King that should would marry him! How could she? Why would she? Was she suffering some brain illness, or had being in the past finally made her go barking mad? Whatever it was, he was sure that he would get to the bottom of it and hex her doing such a thing without his consent. "Jaw broken?" the King joked with a chuckle, but soon regretted that chuckle as he choked a bit. His face reddened as he tried to calm himself, wincing at the pain it brought to his side. "I see that maybe... this was a surprise to you after all... Either way, my Ana seems to be pleased with you, and I've approved the marriage... Now that doesn't mean you can run all over her and my country just because your future king. Treat her with love and respect... and treat my country with the utmost responsibility. Do only what's right for the good of my Ana and my people."

Closing his mouth, Riddle swallowed hard. It was like someone had put a desert in his mouth; his tongue and throat had gone unbelievably parched. He merely nodded, unable to speak, at least without yelling or going into some kind of fit.

"You're free to go," his majesty announced quietly before watching Tom rise from his chair and walk like a man headed for the gallows toward the door. Once it was shut behind him, his face turned an odd shade of crimson. Whether it was from anger, embarrassment, illness, or a mixture of the three was yet to be determined. One thing that was for certain was that Riddle was going to strangle Hermione when he found her.


	30. Realization of the Worst Kind

**A/N:** Okay, sorry about the delay. I had wanted to have this done on Christmas Eve and ended up not beind able to. I thought then that I would have it done for Christmas, but got caught up with family, so I didn't get to get to the computer. The day after Christmas, I was still with family before I cleaned up the house, so again, I didn't get to the computer. I just now finished the chapter, and it's a little longer than usual. I hope everyone had (or is having) a great holiday and that they got (or will get) everything that they wanted. Now on to the thank you's.

Thanks to: _the. dead. addict., xflint, Skavnema, Charming-Lynn, LandUnderWave, Gueneviere_ (I might have asked you this before, I can't remember, but do you have an account on Lusoris?)_, Autumn's-Smile, KoolAidNightmare, The daughter of Slytherin, o0Dreamer0o, Silver Tears 11, ellamalfoy8, Lolaleddir, .o0Aurelie0o., marauder'sbabe, fizznsoot, SoMe wEirDo, libaka, _and _Vera Sabe_ (you save me from writer's block and big fan fiction mistakes, lol).

Now on with the show...

* * *

**Chapter 30 – Realization of the Worst Kind**

With his hands in his hair, Tom stood in the corridor, ready to yank on the black locks he was gripping. His frustration was incomparable to anything he had felt before, and things weren't looking good for Hermione, who he currently could not find. Letting out a grunt of irritation, he stamped his foot and set off towards the library. On the way there, he passed the Duchess's room and was quite happy that he did; from inside came the voices of Hermione and their host.

"I think you've made a fine choice, darling," Rodmilla soothed.

Tom peeked in through the crack in the door to see the two women sitting at a vanity while Hermione looked somewhat worse for the wear. Her hair seemed to have a mind of its own at the moment, sticking up here and there in a haphazard way. Her face was pale and, from what he could see, there were the faintest hint of rings around her eyes, but he didn't care. He hoped that she was losing sleep over this; she had just made things a whole lot harder on them.

"I just don't know now if what I did was right," Hermione mumbled, her voice sounding broken.

"You'll be fine, Ana," the older woman cooed. "Why, when my cousin Marianna found out that she had to marry, she was sure it would take her forever to find someone. Well, her father, after three months of waiting, told her either she picked someone by the next week, or he was putting her in an arranged marriage with a Spanish lord. Afraid of a wrecked life if that was to happen, Marianna announced that she and her best friend, Leonardo, were to marry... My, my, she thought she made a worse decision after two weeks into the marriage, but a year later, she had twin daughters and said it was the best choice of her life."

"And you think I'll turn out like that?" Hermione questioned incredulously. "You don't know Aramis like I do. I bet he's furious right now... if he's already found out."

'_Damn right I'm furious_.' He leaned closer, listening more intently.

"Oh, nonsense. What respectable, right-minded man would be angry with you for saying that you chose them for marriage?" the Duchess pointed out. "I'm sure he's happy. Maybe a little surprised, but happy. Remember what I once said to you? I see the love between the two of you, and it's a strong one, so you did right in picking him; hold onto him. I say, it's better than that other young lad... Protha... whatever his name is. He's too arrogant and bossy; too irresponsible and unfit for the throne. Aramis will make a great king to rule beside you."

'_Oh, if you only knew what he's really like!_' Hermione thought to herself. '_Why, if you could see what he turns into in 1997, you would drop off that chair dead... Wait! What am I saying?_' she suddenly wondered. '_I'm the one who picked him! I know what he could be like running a country... what was I thinking? What's wrong with me?_'

"I think I need some time alone to think to myself," the younger woman sighed, feeling a bit sick as she analyzed what she had gotten herself into.

"Very well, dear. You should get some rest, too; you look awfully worn down, and that's not good for you. You must be rested and feeling energetic for your wedding, and the plans for it as well." The more youthful of the two nodded while removing herself from the room. As she started to walk down the corridor, she raised her eyes from her feet and was startled by the sight of Tom, who was leaning against a sculpture looking rather displeased.

"Now I know you're probably irate, but let me expla-"

"Irate?" he repeated with a strange, almost scary grin crossing his features as his eyes lit up with a maniacal glint. "Irate doesn't even begin to cover it," he continued, starting toward her.

"I said just let me explain," Hermione blurted frantically, backing away from him. "Tom, stop. Stop. Tom. Stop!" He wouldn't listen though; he kept advancing. Hermione almost tripped on her own feet as she turned tail and ran. She skirted into the nearest room she could get to which happened to be the library. Running for the back shelves, she tried to hide herself, but the sound of her heavy breathing and manic heartbeat would surely give her away.

"Where are you?" Riddle demanded, storming into the library and looking high and low as he went up and down the rows. She made to leave the room, but knocked a book from a stack on a table and caught his attention. He came around the shelf, the same malice glowing in his eyes. "What were you thinking?" he asked. His tone seemed weird, almost frighteningly amazed. Had he cracked?

"I had to pick someone in case the King didn't make it," she muttered.

"Why so soon?"

"You've seen the man; he's not getting any better," she blundered, backing herself further into the corner until her back touched the spines of the books behind her.

"He would have gotten better if you just would have given it time," he argued in a low, but deep voice. He was like a crazed killer stalking his victim. She let out a small whimper when he put his hands on either side of her, trapping her in the corner for sure.

"Just let me explain!" she panicked.

"Go ahead," he growled. "And this had better be good."

"Our plan was potentially problematic," she began, shrinking slightly. "We still need at least a week, and I don't think he'll last that long, so I needed to pick someone before Mardon and Porthos tried to do me in next. I mean, at least with people constantly around us as the new king and queen, we'd be under a safe watch, and I figured that if we ascend the thrown, we can get rid of the two trouble makers so that we can get back to work on our plans of returning to the future."

"Did it ever occur to you, Granger, that those people who are there to protect us from those two buffoons are also going to prevent us from working on those plans?" he grumbled evilly. "Even if we did get rid of those prats, we'd be stuck running a country, unable to work on getting back."

"Yes, but I'm sure we could order them away every now and then, right?" she interjected hopefully.

"I wouldn't know, I've never ruled a country before," he snapped through gritted teeth. The look on her face was part terror, part guilt as he went on. "Did you even really think about this before you went babbling to that imbecile in the bed?"

"I just... I didn't... I thought-"

"That's right, you just... didn't...think," he hissed, his jaw still clenched.

"I'll tell the King that I've changed my mind," Hermione spoke fervently. "I'll tell him that I'm not ready for this, and that we should just postponed the idea of me getting married until he's absolutely sure he's not going to make it."

"He might be an idiot Muggle, but he's not going to fall for that," Tom snarled. "He's got his heart set on seeing you married before he croaks. Not to mention the fact that those annoying maids know so the news has probably spread all over the town with the way they jabber on." Hermione didn't know what to say now. She shifted, trying to show him that she was uncomfortable, but he seemed to not care. He stood glaring down at her, unsure of just what he wanted to do next. Feeling his point of her ignorance proven, he stepped back, but still loomed over her in a dangerous, almost threatening way.

"There's still the chance that even if we get married that he'll live anyways," Hermione uttered. "I mean, look at it this way, what if - once he's healthy again - we went off on a honeymoon and ran away. Then we could be free of them and have all the time and peace we needed to figure out our dilemma." He just stared at her, looking as though he were mulling the idea over in his mind. His eyes narrowed, and she thought it wise to continue explaining this. "It's a terrific plan, now that I think about i-"

"A terrific plan?" Riddle spat. "How is the two of us getting married a terrific plan? You don't know what will happen afterward. If there will even be a honeymoon... you don't know any of that!" Suddenly, someone came around the shelves. They looked in alarm at the figure, seeing that it was only Johnalin.

"Some people like to read and study in peace, you know," he remarked snidely. "How about taking your little lover's quarrel elsewhere."

"And how about you mind your own business, you overblown windbag," Tom retaliated.

"I would watch your tongue," Johnalin snapped. "You might be soon to marry the Princess, but I still rank above you at the moment."

"When I become king you won't," Riddle reminded evilly.

"If you keep an attitude like that, you'll make one sorry excuse for a king."

"Take that back," Hermione interrupted. "You will not speak to my future husband that way."

"You, you silly girl, haven't the faintest idea of how to run a country. Our people can only pray that your father gets better," the tutor sniffed, rounding on her. "You've no idea what you're getting into."

"And you won't have a job if you continue to speak to me in that manner," she warned in perilous fashion with a disgusted look to match.

"You can do nothing; the only one with the power to remove me from my position is the King, and he won't do that just because you fancy the idea of it."

"But I will be king soon, and I will get rid of you," Tom threatened.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, _boy_, but you aren't king yet, and even if you do become so, you can't remove me. The current king has ordered that I stay on for five years after his daughter takes the throne to help advise her."

"I said nothing about removing you from your so-called rank," Riddle stated in a low, menacing tone. "I said I would get rid of you... so tell me, who's to take your place in the event of your death?" He stared at Johnalin for a moment as the older man stood frozen to the spot with his eyes registering shock. Stepping back, he looked to Hermione, who had an uncaring expression on, although if anyone had gotten close enough, they would have seen worry deep in her eyes. She watched her soon-to-be husband leave while her teacher stood rooted to the spot as she left as well.

* * *

Riddle stood in the back of Baltor's shop, sorting potion ingredients and brooding over the day's events. He was still slightly angry with Hermione, though the point she had proven before Johnalin had interrupted calmed him slightly. He climbed a small step ladder, looking on the topmost shelf of Baltor's storage cabinet while he assured himself he was still furious over the fact that she would do such a thing as engage him to her behind his back without so much as a hint she was doing it. Reaching into the back of the cupboard, Tom thought he had all the small jars, bottles, and vials, but his fingers touched the dusty glass of one he missed. Pulling it out, he felt his irritation from earlier happenings ebb away. In his hand was an ingredient that he and Hermione had needed to wait to get from the apothecary in Bluffshire. Uncorking the dark green bottle, he looked inside and frowned. There wasn't enough to make a full recipe of the Invigoration Draught. 

Sighing, Tom set it aside with the ingredients for that potion; even if he couldn't make a full one, he could at least make half. As he used his wand to ignite the fire on the burner below the cauldron, his thoughts floated to the King. Would he make it? Had Hermione really been so insightful to see that the man would die while they tried to get his remedies? '_No. She's wrong. Wrong to put me in a marriage that she assumes I'm all right with. Whatever gave her that notion anyways?_'

Beginning to chop up ingredients, he mulled over the idea of how Hermione could even think for one second that he would want to marry her. '_You have been slightly intimate with her, you know_,' a voice spoke to him in the back of his mind. As if on cue, memories of waking up next to her came to him. The kisses that he had shared with her came rolling back like a film wheel being projected onto a screen. His body heated and something stirred in his chest as he tried to push away those unwanted scenes. Figuring that he should focus on his work, Riddle tried to concentrate on making precise cuts and make all the pieces the same tiny, cubic size, but it was as if his brain was working against him when the annoying tone from moments ago spoke up again. '_You lead her on... it's your fault things are like they are right now. You shouldn't toy with her heart. You know nothing about love, and you wouldn't recognize it in anyone or yourself even if it punched you square in the jaw._'

"I know what love is," Tom growled, dumping the newly chopped component of the potion into the cauldron with a little more force than needed, which almost sent the cutting board in with it. "She might think she's in love with me, but I don't love her. I know it... I just know. I'm wise enough to see things like that."

'_Admit it, then. Admit that if she loves you, you'd except it!_' the voice taunted, baiting him into saying something he knew was foolish because he thought it untrue.

"I will _not_ say I love her, too, if that's what you want," Riddle humphed, grabbing a bottle of liquid and pouring it viciously into the steaming cauldron, making it splash up the curved sides of the black pot.

"No, that's not what I want," Baltor spoke up from the doorway to the front of the shop. Tom whipped around to face him, looking shocked if anything and almost dropping the bottle in his hand.

"How long have you been there?" the younger of the two demanded, slamming the large vial down and nearly breaking it again.

"Only long enough to hear you denying that you love that young girl who's always with you," the shop keeper replied.

"I don't love her."

"I never said you did or didn't," Baltor pointed out as he leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You said I was 'denying' and when someone says denying, it usually implies that they're refusing to accept a truth, and it's not true that I love her," Tom retaliated.

"Isn't it?"

"Of course it is," Riddle blurted. "Not," he added quickly, realizing what he had said. "It is not." Baltor said nothing after that, only shook his head as he left the doorway with a knowing expression on his face and looking as though he thought Tom arrogant and obliviously stubborn. "I don't," Riddle huffed through gritted teeth to the moving curtain, which the shopkeeper had just disappeared behind. Even though he had seemingly proved his point, Tom could still hear the voice in his head calling to him. '_Yes, you do!_'

* * *

Hermione pushed open one of the heavy front doors of the castle. She descended the few stairs there were to the the gravel driveway, moving as though she were a swan on water. Her movements were fluid and graceful from her feet to her shoulders. She would have looked quite regal if it weren't for her tired eyes, beaten expression, frazzle hair, and defeated bow of her head. 

Heading for the back of the castle, Hermione saw a group of three men crouched on the ground. One was wearing old riding gloves and picking up something diminutive, a look of utter disgusted sadness on his face. Another was holding a tan, burlap sack in his similarly gloved hands as the first threw whatever he was removing from the ground into the bag. The last was using a crude wooden dust pan and worn, frayed hand broom to try and sweep up smaller debris from the gravel walkway. As Hermione got closer, she saw that the first man was picking up sparrows and other species of birds. All were dead and rigid as they lay beside half eaten bread heels and piece of vegetables from a soup mixture. She turned her head, looking away and feeling slightly sickened by the sight. She wished now that she had disposed of the food in another manner rather than throwing it out the window, but at least it confirmed the belief she had that Porthos was out to poison the King.

Coming to the stretch of garden that was behind the castle, Hermione breathed deep and inhaled the refreshing smell of blossoms and crisp air. She wandered down the pathway into the center of the garden where a wishing well sat framed by four benches. Taking a seat on one, she folded her hands in her lap and watched two bees buzz from one flower to the next. She was like a soulless zombie. Her breathing was soft, almost nonexistent, and her eyes were sparkling but blank and lifeless. Her face held a solemn expression, but it was hard to read whether it was a reserved and sincere gesture or one of gravity. She was staring at the ground, unaware of things around her as she contemplated her actions as of late. '_I never should have been so naïve. How could I have thought that that was a good idea?_' she chastised herself.

She had determined the dire consequences of her decision after leaving the library earlier. It had hit her once Tom so pointedly showed her the errors in her ways. Not only was she putting more stress into the situation by bringing them into the limelight for their upcoming marriage, but she also didn't realize that having him as a king might be dangerous. He hated Muggles and surely he would destroy the very kingdom they were to inherit in hopes of gaining an advantage for his later dark plans. How could she have lost sight of something so important? How could she have put the future wizarding Dark Lord in the line of succession for ruling on a throne? Groaning, Hermione tried to push the thoughts from her mind. She was trying to convince herself that he had changed and that he wouldn't revert back to his evil ways. Hadn't she done something to make him different? The truth was that she couldn't be entirely sure. There were, of course, the facts that when she had met him, he was nothing more than a ruthless, cold-blooded, murdering madman, but he seemed somewhat diverse now. Right?

'_Yes... yes, he is._' She fought herself; optimistic against pessimistic. Surely she had changed him; even if only a little for the better. Hermione had taken that heartless young man and showed him kindness, friendship, and even the tiniest bit of love. It was in all those moments that she had slept beside him, kissed him, and even cared for his well-being. She was positive now that she had made a change, but the question now was: Would he remain an altered man if and when they got back to their rightful times?

Biting the inside of her lip, she pondered the idea of letting him return to their times. She couldn't very well leave him here; the results would be positively disastrous. But if he went back to his own time, the 1940's, he would surely still become the Dark Lord without her there to monitor him. Yet if he went back to 1997 with her, could she trust him not to turn on her and cause damage like the kind that was originally intended by himself and Voldemort? All the questions were giving her a headache. They seemed to be infinite, and no matter what she decided or chose, another question or doubt popped up in her plan. However, one that she still hadn't answered properly was the question as to why she had chose to tell the King she would marry Tom in the first place.

Hermione had argued and debated with herself since announcing her choice that it had been for the simple fact she needed to pick someone before the wounded and sickly elder died, or else there would be trouble. Then she had tested the notion that it was because she had gotten scared and went on impulse, but she knew she was only lying to herself. She never went with impulses when she was alone and able to talk it over with herself, so there was only one explanation left.

"Let's not get carried away, Hermione," she told herself in a firm tone. "That's not why you picked him. It was definitely the first idea I came up with; I needed to pick someone before the King passed." But her self-assurance was useless, especially when she couldn't stop thinking about him. She just needed to face it; there were facts of the situation all around her. For one, the way she now depended on him as a support for when she needed to cry, be held, or just needed friendly encouragement that things would be okay. Another concrete reality was that it drove her absolutely crazy to not know where he was, how he was, and what he was up to. As it stood at that moment, her walk to the garden had started not because she needed to think about all the questions that kept nagging her, but because she needed the fresh air to relax her in his absence.

'_It's useless denying. You know it is._'

"Yes, I know," she sighed to herself. "But the trouble is knowing whether or not he feels the same about me." A frown creased her face, and Hermione suddenly felt very weary. Rising from the bench, she headed back into the castle and straight to her room, where she would hopefully get some rest.

* * *

When Tom returned to the castle, it was late, but he had three of the four potions he needed to administer to the King; albeit one was only half full in its minuscule bottle. Sighing as he pushed open one of the front doors, he entered feeling worn out, but he continued towards the steps by forcing himself to drag his feet across the floor. His legs felt as though they were made of concrete when it came time to climb the stairs. Standing in the back of Baltor's shop for six hours straight while he brewed potions was no treat; that was for sure. Inwardly overjoyed to have finally made it to the top of the obstacle that was the staircase, he pondered if the King could wait until he had some sleep before Tom gave him his remedies. Considering the condition of the older man from earlier that day, Riddle sighed heavily and continued on his way to deliver the cures.

Knocking gently on the door, he was about to grab the handle and enter when it began to twist; the reflection of the lights on the gold handle staying stationary as the knob itself spun to the left. He looked up and was greeted by the sight of Hermione who narrowed her eyes on him before looking over her shoulder at the King. She bowed her head and stepped outside the door, pulling it part way shut behind herself.

"What are you doing here?" she interrogated, looking up at him with a serious, but drawn visage.

"I've got something for the King," Tom stated simply as he held up a dark brown leather sack whose contents clinked together giving a telltale sign of what it held, or what Hermione thought it should hold. She pulled the door shut even more, just barely leaving a crack as the wood of the door touched the door frame itself.

"What potions have you got and how are we to give it to him?"

"Just never you mind. Leave it to me," he said cockily as he leaned forward, pushing the door open behind her. His face was a mere inch from hers as he looked at her with a confident and assertive expression. It, however, didn't seem to phase her as she stepped aside and let him in. He walked past and into the room, pulling a teardrop-shaped bottle from the leather bag. Its liquid contents were a dark, blood red, though it was much thinner than blood; almost watery. Hermione narrowed her eyes once again and watched Riddle grab a glass from the nightstand as he spoke to the King.

"How are you this evening, your majesty?"

"Just fine, m'boy," the King replied, not sounding at all truthful as he wheezed and struggled against a cough while watching the young man before him pour out some of the red liquid.

"Here you are," he said, handing the newly filled glass over.

"Aramis," Hermione spoke up, crossing the room. "What is that?"

"Wine," he shrugged, pulling two more glasses from the leather pack and pouring some more of the liquid into one.

"Are you off your bloody rocker?" she exclaimed; her face contorted into outraged disbelief.

"No, I-"

"Wine, you say?" the King spoke up. "What's the occasion?"

"Why, our engagement, of course!" Tom answered enthusiastically while grabbing Hermione's hand and placing the glass into it as he put on a sickening smile that he meant to be charming.

Hermione's face, on the other hand, stiffened to an emotionless, unreadable shell. Her eyes were dull, void of their usual luster, and her mouth was thin; not frowning and not smiling. By the way her jaw was set though, it was easy to see she had her teeth clenched like she was biting back a comment. She felt her heart breaking, feeling as though she were being mocked in the cruelest way. She could do nothing but stare at him while the glass in her hand was ready to fall to the floor and shatter if Tom ever removed his own hand from hers. Looking from the speechless King to Hermione, he gave her a slightly bug-eyed look to cue her into playing along. She only looked away as the King sat his glass upon the nightstand and sighed. His breathing still labored and there was a grave look replacing the bewilderment that was once on his face.

"I'm afraid, son, that we need to talk about this," he informed solemnly as he looked up to Hermione who had pulled away from Tom and was sitting her own glass upon the stand.

"What's the matter?" Riddle inquired, his eyes darting suspiciously from Hermione to the King. Suddenly, he realized what was probably about to happen.


	31. Confession Time

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long everyone. With holidays and Winter Quarter of college starting, it was hard to actually sit down and be able to write. So here's the thanks before we get into the chapter. Thanks to: _Gueneviere, xflint, libaka, Silver Tears 11, KoolAidNightmare, SoMe wEirDo, nehimasgift, ellamalfoy8, marauder'sbabe, Lolaleddir, Chocolatecoveredespressobean, xXxTom4everxXx, LandUnderWave, The daughter of Slytherin, karine.snake, Charming-Lynn, _and _Vera-Sabe_ for all her help. Now onward to the chapter...

* * *

**Chapter 31 – Confession Time**

"Sit down," the King muttered, pointing to the chair that Hermione had previously occupied. She now stood by the nightstand instead with her arms folded over her chest, and her eyes looking anywhere in the room but on Tom and the King. "My daughter has just voiced her doubts on marriage. She says that she's not sure that she and you are ready for that level of relationship." An instant fire burst in Riddle that made his chest rip with pain. His forehead began to bead with sweat, and the collar of the uniform was beginning to feel entirely too tight. It was like his neck was swelling due to the newly formed dryness of his throat and mouth.

"Not ready for marriage?" the young, ebony haired man repeated. "Why would you say that?" he asked, turning in his seat to face her.

"Let's face it and not try to deny the fact that we really don't have a connection," she spoke up stiffly. "I've confessed to my father the worries of how we would be unfit to run the country together. We wouldn't do well because we'd constantly be trying to keep our marriage together and not be able to concentrate on what's best for the people."

"But who will you marry?" he quizzed, feeling the tearing, searing pain in his chest again. "Don't... don't you love me like you said?" He had let it slip. Not the words, but the sincerity of it. His tone had dripped with it almost; his voice sounding faltered even. Not to mention the fact that his face was uncontrollable at the moment. His expression was betraying him as well; he looked frantic and worried. "Why didn't you talk this over with me first to see if we could work it out?" he continued to plead as he rose from his seat with his hands held out before him as though he were holding an imaginary box.

"I thought we already had," she droned; her emotions were on lock down. It appeared that the two of them had traded places.

"But you can't just cancel this," Tom argued with wild concern. "What about all the plans that have been set to motion? The people who know and have wished us the best. What will they think of you as a princess if you change your mind?"

"When they find out that I'm doing it for the good of my country, they'll understand and think of me as the best princess turned queen to ever grace the throne."

"What about... what about my... my," he was having trouble saying it. She had him cornered feeling hopeless, helpless, trapped, and weak. He had never felt like this, and he wasn't sure when it had started either. Wasn't it he earlier that very same day that had had her feeling like the underling?

"What about your what?" she prompted, still as uncaring as ever.

"What about me and my feelings? Don't... don't I get a say in this as the guy who's to marry you?" he frowned deeply.

"What about your feelings? I never even knew you had any," Hermione spoke venomously, forgetting for a second that the King was there.

"Should the two of you go elsewhere and discuss this before a final decision is made on it?" his majesty interrupted.

"No," she replied quickly just as Tom spoke up the opposite.

"Yes, we should," he spoke over her. "You need some rest, and a moment to think this over by yourself before we talk about this."

"I've had both quite recently, and we did that earlier today in the library. Or do I need to remind you of that?" she grumbled vehemently.

For the third time that night, he felt it. The scraping, stabbing, and sweltering pain that exploded through his chest. What was this? And was the voice that kept taunting him earlier in Baltor's shop telling the truth? Did he really not know what love was? Could he not recognize it in himself or anyone else? No, the voice was wrong. He figured it out now. The pain was his heart breaking. It would seem to the shattered pump of life in his body that he had been deceived by her. Tricked into thinking that she loved him, and as she stood here before him now denying it all, he felt used, beaten, and hurt. '_No!_' his mind screamed. '_She did love you once... it's still in her. That's why she's acting this way. Make her realize it again. Tell her that you love her!_'

"I need to speak with you privately before you give your final say on this," Riddle begged.

"In private? Why in private? Are you afraid to say something in the presence of others?" she snapped. He looked to the King who looked as though he wanted to tell Hermione to be a bit nicer, but he remained unspoken as he coughed a bit.

"I just don't want to upset your father anymore than we already have with this useless nonsens-"

"Useless nonsense? Is that what this is?" she roared.

"Please stay calm and just work with me on this," he tried.

"Stay calm?" she snipped, his words only seeming to frustrate her more and more. "All right, I'll work with you, but I won't be calm. You have five minutes to change my mind and try to persuade me," she growled, stalking to the door once she was finished. He looked to the King who sighed, shaking his head in a grievous fashion before trying to clear his throat. Figuring it best he go after her, Tom turned and left the room. He looked up and down the hall, spotting her standing outside an empty room, awaiting him. Moving swiftly, he followed her into the space, shutting the door as she whipped around to face him, not looking pleased at all.

"What are you doing?" he demanded in a panicked tone.

"I should be the one asking you that!" she yelled. "You're the one who didn't want to marry me this morning. You made that _very_ clear. Now you're in the room in front of the King trying to stop me from correcting my horrid mistake? You don't make sense, Tom Riddle! You're a typical boy, and I think that you're only trying to save face in front of that man, so give me one good reason to not put a stop to this madness!" His mouth hung open, unsure if he should say anything and what it should be. Thinking that actions would be stronger than words, he moved closer to her and tried to take her hands in his, but she jerked away. "No! Tell me what you're on about and don't lie to me."

"Hermione-"

"Don't you mean _Granger_?" she snarled, mocking his angered tone from their previous argument.

"No!" he breathed in tired frustration. "Will you just give me the chance to speak like you said?"

"I don't know why I should. You're just going to lie or not say what you truly mean. In fact, even if you didn't lie, and you spoke the truth, you couldn't change my mind anyways. We're just wasting both our times here," Hermione barked. "So why don't you just go away? I don't want to ever see you again anywa-" He moved forward, his movements too quick for her this time. He pressed one hand to the back of her neck and the other over her mouth to stop her from speaking. She shoved against his chest with all her might, but she was still too weak to push him off.

"Just listen to me!" he pleaded. "I need to tell you something important, so stop it." She slammed a fist against his chest, another against his shoulder, and then her hand pushed against his neck. His eyes began to water as she practically choked him. He moved his own hand from the back of her neck to her hand, pulling it away as he spoke up before she could back away from him. "I love you!" he spat.

"Don't you lie to me!" she bellowed. "It's bad enough that you got me stuck in this forsaken situation in the first place, but don't you lie to me about something like that. I'm not a toy and neither are my feelings and my heart!"

"I'm not toying with you. I'm not playing games. I realized it today when I was away from you. I tried to deny it, but when you did what you did back there with the King, I knew I couldn't deny it anymore because it's true. It's real, and it will eat me alive if you go through with what you're trying to do," he choked out, amazed at the fact that those words had come from his mouth. He didn't know he had something like that resting inside of him.

"You're a liar. I can't trust you," she cried, shaking her head and backing away from him, but she backed into a covered wardrobe.

"I'm not lying to you! Why won't you believe me?" he ranted in a frenzied, hurt way.

She looked into his eyes, prepared to give the answer, but lost all sense of what she had been about to say when she saw the intensity of his dark, powerful orbs. They currently shimmered with a mixture of worry, panic, truth, and love. She turned away, knowing that that look was for her and probably the first one of that kind that he had ever given in his life.

Not wanting to lose her now that he was sure he could win this, he stepped forward and tried to cup her face in his hands, but she tried to sidestep him. Mirroring her movement, he stopped her and managed to capture her face between his hands. Looking at her with more sincerity than he had given anything in his life, he tried to find the words to convey to her just what he was going through. He had told her that he loved her, so what else was there? That was the most powerful phrase anyone could utter. Once more, the notion that actions were stronger than words hit him.

As she gripped his wrists which were still holding her cheeks, he darted forward and pinned her lips against his in a kiss that was everything she needed in that moment. More than some fairytale cliché and more than some cheesy movie climax kiss, this was _the _kiss. The one that every girl dreams of and only few get to actually experience. A pure, sweet, passionate, and simple kiss with no lies, hidden meanings, or deceiving smirks to follow. This was strictly him showing her that he was being truthful and that he did love her. Merely him kissing her and meaning every heaven-like, fulfilling second of it.

She was so confused though. What was she supposed to do now? His lips were still hanging onto hers as though prising the life from them. Her brain was rendered unreliable because of this, and she could hardly think of how to handle the situation. So she did the only thing she felt she could do: She feverishly returned the kiss. But where would this lead? Could she trust him to not take advantage of her? Was he already doing so? The confusion that engulfed her grew deeper and deeper with each panting breath she gasped for.

Pushing him back, she turned her head away to make him realize they needed to stop. When his hold on her loosened, Hermione looked back to him. Tom saw fear in her eyes, but it wasn't the fear he was used to seeing. This wasn't fright for inevitable death. This was her being scared that he was untrustworthy, that he might hurt her in other ways. In all honesty, the look she gave pained him. How could she not have faith in him after he had just confessed his love for her? His hands slid further from around her waist. Backing up, she severed the touch that was fast dying between them. Neither were sure if clinging back onto the other would fix the distress they were now feeling, or if putting space between them might sort it out. So Hermione decided for them both. She walked slowly around him, and he instantly changed his mind when she disappeared from his sight.

Reaching out for her hand, he tried to keep her there, but she dodged him and ran from the room. Everything that happened was just too much to process. Feeling shaken and alone, Riddle could no longer stand the silence of the room. He, too, left for his own separate space. As he walked in a daze down the hall, he wondered if it was all in vain. Was it too late for him to have professed what he was feeling for her? Had her feelings like that for him – if she had ever had any – left her? Was there still a chance that they might be together now that he determined the right in it all?

Entering his bedroom, he closed the door and leaned against it. He hit his head on the wood, trying to rearrange the thoughts that swarmed and massed to create such a perplexing mental blockage. If only he knew that Hermione was across the castle doing something of the same. She, however, was staring out the window; her forehead was banging lightly on the crude, distorted pane of glass. Stopping, she turned and headed for the wardrobe to change. Crawling into bed after dressing, she rolled onto her side and huffed. She needed just a little bit of sleep. Yawning, she closed her eyes and willed her brain to stop the madness that was swirling inside her head. Back in Tom's room, he was doing the total opposite. He had given up on trying to clear his head. Instead, he was working over his feelings for her as he recalled with longing the kiss he had just bestowed upon her.

* * *

"Good day, Miss Granger," McGonagall spoke as she nodded and walked past Hermione in the corridor. "Don't forget about the prefect meeting tonight."

Hermione nodded and continued on her way down the hall. She entered the library, but walked no further than the inside of the doorway. Her eyes scanned the tables and stacks of books where students studied, but she couldn't find what she was looking for. Leaving, she headed for Gryffindor common room. She was almost to the portrait of the Fat Lady when Ron appeared before her. He smiled and reached out to caress her cheek.

"I've been looking for you, Hermione. I just wanted to tell you that I love you," he beamed. Her heart fluttered, her cheeks went pink, and her face grew warmer.

"I love you, too, Tom."

The look on Ron's face was confused. He looked from her to something behind her. She turned, following his gaze to someone who was standing with their back to them. Grabbing their arm and turning them to face her, she found that it was Harry. Shaking her head, she backed away from him as he tried to grab her hand. Spinning back around, she faced Ron again who looked crushed. She wanted to say sorry, but something in her kept her from doing that. Bowing her head, she turned from him. Looking back up, her eyes landed on the windows of the corridor where a bright, white light blocked the outside world from view. Before them was a tall, dark haired boy though. He was wearing a uniform, but not one from Hogwarts. The red, heavy, denim-like coat and white pants were familiar to her. She approached him slowly as he turned to face her. Her face lit up with a smile as Tom's dark, entrancing eyes stared down at her.

"Hermione," Ron spoke from behind her, his voice filled with an echoing quality. But she didn't care to turn and look at the red head as her arms draped around Tom's neck, a dreamy smirk on both their faces. Their lips drew closer, almost touching in a kiss as she shut her eyes.

Hermione's eyes opened. She was hugging her pillow, and Riddle wasn't in her arms. She sat up slowly, rubbing her face with her hands. She wasn't in a Hogwarts corridor, but instead, she was in her bed in the Duchess and Duke's castle. Getting off of the mattress and mounds of blankets and pillows, she encased herself in a robe-like dressing gown as she crossed the room to the window. The moon was high in the sky, bright and white. She looked back over her shoulder to the bed knowing she had not been asleep that long; probably no more than two or three hours at the most. She wouldn't go back to sleep either, at least not until she got to talk to Tom. Turning from the window, she approached the door and paused, thinking. She could wait until the morning. Staring at her hand on the handle, she felt confident that she shouldn't.

Leaving the room, she was overcome with anticipation and giddiness. Her heart raced as she let her feet carry her swiftly down the corridor. It would seem that what Riddle had confessed earlier that night had just now unfolded its meaning upon her. Coming to his door, she was going to knock, but paused with her knuckles merely inches from the wood. Deciding better of it, she twisted the handle soundlessly and peered into the room. All was dark except the wane light of a candle which was sputtering as it was about to die, and the pale silver light of the moon. She approached his bed, her bare feet making no noise on the floor. Wax spurted from the tray as the flame flickered. She blew out the light and sat down gently on the bed.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the natural light that was filtering into the window. When they did, however, she saw his sleeping figure cast in shadow and looking peaceful. She wanted to share in that relaxed peace. She removed her robe and crawled up next to him before laying down. Her head rested on his arm as his breath tickled her forehead. Unable to hold back the urge, she reached out and brushed back a lock of onyx hair from his brow. His eyes flicked back and forth below the lids, aware of her touch. His brow grew deep furrows as his hand reached up to his face, touching her soft, delicate fingers. Tom opened his eyes part way, looking confusedly at her hand which was lacing her fingers in his own. She smiled sweetly and brushed her lips across his knuckles, leaving the tingling sensation of her breath on his skin.

"What are you doing?" he murmured groggily.

"Picking up where we left off," she whispered, caressing his cheek with her lips. He tried to fight grinning, but only half succeed. The corner of his mouth curved upward, moving his cheek against her mouth. She pulled back and searched his face for any other sign of what he was thinking about. Hermione didn't need to search long though because he kissed her forehead and then spoke.

"Why did you tell the King that you wanted to call the wedding off?"

"I was afraid," she murmured. "I knew you were unhappy about it, and I figured that calling it off would be the best thing."

"But now he's going to think something is wrong between us," Riddle administered. "He might not want me around you anymore after this."

"Then what do we do?"

"Go up in the morning and tell him that we're going to stick with the plan; tell him that the wedding is still going to happen, and it was a mere doubt of the moment along with a small row that made us think it wasn't a good idea."

"But is it?"

"I don't know... I can't say for certain," he mumbled, his voice as truthful as hers was innocent.

"Do you want to though?" she quizzed. He paused for a moment, seemingly thinking things through. Leaning forward, he rested his chin against her jaw, his breath dancing across her ear and warming it. Closing her eyes, she waited to hear him say something.

"I wouldn't have insisted on it like I did if I didn't want to go through with this. Like I've already told you... I feel deeply for you," he informed, his voice a little more than a deep, lustful whisper. Something stirred in her. An odd feeling that she wasn't sure of. It started in her chest and traveled to her lower abdomen, warming her body. She shivered despite the heat, and he rubbed his hand up and down her arm. It had started out as an attempt to warm her, but diminished to him merely registering the feel of her silky, cream-colored skin beneath his almost rough fingertips. She buried her face in his neck and shoulder, drawing a guttural sort of grunt from him.

Tom wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. Maneuvering herself so that her weight was rested upon her knees and elbows, she looked down at him, her stomach barely touching his as they breathed. Looking up at her, he placed an arm around her neck and pulled her hair to one side. It hung down just long enough to tickle his cheek with the ends. He enfolded his fingers within the hair on the back of her head and pulled her towards him, his mouth reaching up to her own. She felt lost in the kiss, her hands running up his chest and gripping his shoulders. She might have been afraid of what was taking place during that time, but she wasn't; she knew she could trust him to not take it too far.

* * *

His eyes willed themselves to remain shut, his face scrunching as he closed them as tight as they would go, but it was no use; he was consciously awake now. Pulling the covers over his head, he tried to fool himself into thinking it was still night, but the pale light in the room still radiated through the blanket. Tom sighed and rolled over, his face coming extremely close to Hermione's. Their noses were centimeters from touching, and he could see the sleep in the corners of her eyes. He reached up and brushed the dust like stuff from her lashes, longing to kiss her as she lay there looking innocent and angelic. Deciding that he should let her sleep, he rose slowly from the bed, careful not to stir too much. After tucking the covers up around her, he began searching for a clean shirt. 

Digging through his trunk, he pulled out a white, long-sleeved undershirt. He hoped it was one he hadn't already wore, but his sense of smell told him otherwise when he went to pull it over his head. Tossing that one aside, he rummaged to the bottom of the trunk and found one that was folded and surely clean. Putting it on, he grabbed his jacket and slid his arms into it, starting to do up the buttons. He was halfway through the row of round, gold toggles when he heard her moving. He stopped, watching her rouse around. She opened her eyes and ran her hand across the spot where he had been laying. Her face registered bewilderment as she stared for a moment before sitting up and looking around for him. When her eyes fell upon him, he chuckled and greeted her.

"Good morning," he said, looking from her to the window where things were cast in a misty, light bluish gray haze as the sky turned a pale, pinkish white from the rising sun.

"It's still early. Why are you up anyways? Come back to bed," she commanded groggily, but still in a sweet, wanting manner.

"It might be early, but I can't sleep any longer," he informed, coming over to sit on the bed. He continued to fasten his shirt, missing a button and causing the collar to go crooked. She laughed and crawled towards him, correcting his mistake.

"C'mon, then," she sighed, climbing over his lap to get out of bed. "Let's go talk to the King."

"Don't you think you should change first?" he pointed out, looking amused. "What would he think if we showed up, and you were still in your nightgown?"

"Very well," she shrugged, grabbing his hand as he grabbed his boots and socks.

They meandered through the corridor, hand-in-hand, both barefoot, and taking their time as they didn't expect the King to be awake yet. Riddle waited outside her room, putting on his socks and shoes as he waited on her to change. While he did so, he noticed Porthos coming down the corridor with a sinister little smirk on his face that screamed he felt superior to everyone. The blond cocked his brow and turned up his nose while passing Tom, who glared and felt the urge to curse the little pest, but he only got to stand up when the door to Hermione's room opened, and she emerged, dressed and ready.

"Let's... wait... what's he doing?" she asked as she spotted Porthos' retreating back going around the corner.

"Being a smug little git," Riddle growled as he continued to glower after the other male.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Hermione muttered as she looked down the opposite end of the corridor, which was the direction Porthos had come from. It also happened to be the direction they needed to go to get to the King's room. Hermione exchanged a worried look with Tom, and the two set off at a quick pace. Her dress billowed out behind her as they went, both nearly jogging. They entered the King's room to see him still resting. Sighing with relief, she crossed the room and bent forward while she spoke, trying to wake the older man.

"Father... Father, I've got something to tell you. Please wake up. Father?" She looked back at Riddle, who was still standing by the door. He stared at the King, unable to see his chest rising and falling in evidence that his majesty was breathing.

"Hermione," Tom rasped slowly, almost fearfully. "I think he's-"

"Don't say it!" she demanded in fright as she looked her pretend father over. That's when she noticed something. On the opposite side of the King's bed was a rather large, dark spot. She leaned across his legs and touched it, her fingers feeling a wetness. She looked up towards the top of the bed, and as her eyes traversed the covers, she saw a glass laying in the King's limp hand. He had obviously spilled water, but something still wasn't right.

Hermione took the cup from his hand and held it up to the light, examining the rim. There was a filmy, opaque sort of mark all the way around the small vessel's upper edge. She looked to the elderly gentleman and saw his lips had a flaky, white covering on them. Moving closer, she looked harder at his mouth. There most definitely was something there on his chapped, dry lips. Looking back to the glass, she saw a spot wiped clear from the diaphanous substance. The spot was in the shape of someone's bottom lip.

"He's been poisoned," Hermione gasped, dropping the cup from her hand. It shattered upon the floor as she frantically wiped her hands on her dress to remove whatever she was afraid was on them. Her eyes darted, wide and worried, to Tom who had crouched and picked up one of the broken pieces, examining the strange smudging.

"Then I was right? He's... dead?" Riddle questioned uncertainly and with some concern.


	32. Accusations Fall

**A/N:** Ergh! This story seems to go on forever. I had never intended it to even be this long. sigh I'm sorry to those of you who are wishing for the end to come soon. I really want to finish this, but I can't seem to stop writing on it and get to the end without making it seem like there's a bit gap. Hopefully I'll hit the end before I hit 40 chapters, eh? Anyways, on with the thank you's. Thanks to: _katrin4p, Silver Tears 11, libaka, LandUnderWave, SoMe WeirDo, the. dead. addict., Joou Himeko Dah, marauder'sbabe, siriushermionelover, Autumn's-Smile, arushi, xflint, nehimasgift, _and _jUsT.me.SuzI._ Many apologies to anyone I forgot or didn't reply to their review. On with the show...

* * *

**Chapter 32 - Accusations Fall**

Tom sat in the garden with Hermione with his arm around her shoulders, and her head resting against him. Her face was damp and splotched from tears; she looked as though she could be sick any moment. Riddle was grateful that they had at least found that the King was only a mere hour away from death instead of already passed. He would have had a much tougher time consoling her if that had been the case. However, they had been rushed from the room by nurses before either could get a certain answer as to whether or not his majesty would make it anyway.

"What's taking them so long?" she questioned.

"Relax, lov-"

"Anastasia? Aramis?" came the voice of the Duke from behind them. They craned their necks around to look back over their shoulders at him. He looked grave and beaten down almost. "Could the two of you come back into the castle? The General is waiting in the banquet hall to ask you a few questions,' the older man informed.

They rose from their place on the stone garden bench and followed Rodden back up to his castle. The walk was silent and solemn and eerily like a funeral precession. When they got into the room, the General was waiting for them. He was standing at the window and staring out like a vulture watching its prey take its last breathes of life on the desert. He turned to face them upon hearing the threesome enter the room, his face reading danger and foreboding the likes of which made Hermione feel uneasy.

"Princess Anastasia," Mardon acknowledged in greeting.

"General Mardon," Hermione replied.

"Aramis," the General said in turn.

"Let's cut right to the chase, shall we?" Tom remarked, not caring enough to greet the man.

Mardon nodded and gestured to the long dining table in a signal for them to sit down. The scrape of chairs on the floor could be heard as Mardon sat at the head of the table with the Duke to his right, and Hermione and Riddle on the left with an empty seat's space between the three. The General cleared his throat and loosened his collar a bit while folding his hands together on the table top.

"What's going on here?" Hermione prompted impatiently.

"I was hoping you would tell us that," Mardon stated professionally. "Tell us exactly was occurred when you entered your father's room."

"All right, then," she agreed. " As you may not know, Aramis and I were second guessing our decision to get married to one ano-"

"Second guessing it? But why?" the Duke interrupted.

"I think that's a conversation for another time," Mardon commented. "Proceed," he continued, looking to Hermione.

"After some sleep and a good, long talk, we figured we should go ahead with the plans for our wedding. We felt that we were being silly in doubting our first choice on the matter," she continued to explain, stealing a glance at Tom as she spoke. He gripped her hand, and she felt courage seemingly flow from his hand to hers and throughout her body. He gave her delicate fingers another squeeze, and she swallowed to clear her throat of the worry that was seated there. "So, I told Aramis that we needed to go inform my father that we were fine once again and that he needn't worry about it."

"Why so early in the morning though?" the General quizzed.

"We were unable to sleep, and we wanted to catch him while the points we had made in the conversation were still fresh in our minds. Not to mention we felt it would be wise to get there before he got involved in breakfast or any business that the nurse maids might have had in store for him," Hermione responded, a little surprised at how fast the answer had come to her.

"Very well," Mardon droned, shifting slightly in his chair.

"We left his room for my own so that I could change and maybe even give the my father a little time to wake and clear his head of sleep," Hermione resumed, proceeding without mentioning Porthos, though she wasn't sure why she had left that part out. "From there we went up to my father's room. When we entered, everything seemed fine. He appeared to still be sleeping, so I tried to wake him by calling to him; he never answered. That's when I noticed the glass in his left hand."

"The contents of this glass had been spilled before you came into the room and noticed it, correct?" Mardon interjected.

"Yes," Hermione replied, looking to Tom who nodded his ascent. The two of them were starting to feel as though this was some sort of interrogation, but that was to be expected since they had been the first to find the King in his condition. "The glass was tipped and laying in his hand, and the covers on the left side of the bed were soaked with whatever liquid was in it."

"I see. What happened after that?" the General pressed on.

"We assumed that he had fallen asleep with the cup, so I went to take it from his hand and place it on the nightstand. When I did, however, I noticed that something was on the lip of the glass."

"And what was that?" the Duke questioned, speaking up for the second time since they had entered the room.

"I'm not sure what it was. I only remember that it was a white, sort of transparent looking film. It was almost as though someone had smeared milk on the rim and left it to dry…. I took a closer look at the stain to see if I could determine what it was, that's when I saw the lip print on the rim. After that, I checked my father's mouth and saw the stuff on his lower lip."

"Could you make a guess as to what this stuff was?" Mardon asked.

"What relevance does that have?" Tom snapped. "She's no nurse or chemist, so how would she know?"

"He's right, you know, Mardon," the Duke added.

"Fine, fine. Continue with your story."

"It was my guess," Hermione said, "that he had been poisoned. In my haste to put the glass down, I dropped it. That's when I sent Aramis to go get some help."

"Why were you in such a hurry to put the glass down? And what made you feel that it was poison and not a sleeping agent?" Mardon posed.

"What sleeping agent is rubbed on the rim of a glass to where the drinker doesn't know that they're being exposed to it?" Riddle inquired cockily, disliking Mardon's questioning tone more and more by the second.

"Once again, Aramis is right," Hermione picked up before the General could retaliate against the younger man, though the older man's face was becoming considerably more tomato-like in color by the moment. "I just thought that whoever wanted my father to take whatever was on the rim of that glass bad enough to put it there and not inform him must be trying to poison him. It was a simple deduction really."

"But that still doesn't answer the question as to why the glass was found shattered on the ground," Mardon reminded snidely.

"She already told you," the future wizarding Dark Lord snapped. "She said she had dropped the glass in her haste to put it down. Or weren't you listening? She's the Princess… have a bit more respect for her post, even if you are older."

"And I am your standing officer in charge, which means I hold rank and power over you, Aramis D'Artagnan, so do _not_ speak to me in that tone, or else I will have you thrown in prison for insubordination!" the General barked.

"You might have the power to do that, but he is my future husband, which makes him future King, so remember who you talk to if you value your position so much," Hermione hissed.

"Now, now," the Duke cut in. "Let's not get carried away. You're obviously upset, Ana, darling. So why don't you go upstairs - Aramis will take you - and get some rest. We'll continue this questioning later."

"I'm afraid that's out of the question," Mardon quipped. "I don't trust their story one bit for some reason."

"Wait! Are you saying that you suspect we did something to the King?" Tom roared as he jumped up from his chair.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Mardon replied vehemently.

"Do you honestly think I would poison my own father?" Hermione gasped incredulously as she leaned forward, resting heavily on the table top.

"You act so surprised that I would find you to be untrustworthy," the General stated nonchalantly as though this were a mere political debate over tea. "You and Aramis were supposed the ones who _found_ his majesty, and to me, your story is odd. I heard nothing of your doubts on marriage, and I also don't understand why you wouldn't wait until after breakfast and after the nurses had taken care of the King to tell him. He would most certainly be feeling a great deal more like talking then." Silence fell upon them. Hermione was astonished. The pure nerve of this man to point a finger at her. Tom, on the other hand, was somehow unsurprised by these accusations. He was, however, too angry to express in words just how badly he wanted to beat Mardon to a pulp. The older man seemed snootily satisfied that he had quieted the two, and the Duke was in utter awe at what was taking place before his eyes.

"Come now, Mardon, don't be so unreasonable," Rodden choked out. "Anastasia loves her father, therefore she would do nothing to harm him."

"Maybe not by herself," The General pronounced. "But with the influence of someone like Aramis D'Artagnan… maybe."

"You bastard! How can you point a finger at the two of us when you know full well that it was you!" Hermione burst, shooting upward from her seat in rage.

"Anastasia, please… control yourself. Your father would be appalled by such language coming from your lips... and to accuse the General is preposterous," the Duke implored.

"No, she's right," Riddle quickly butt in. "It was Mardon… or rather his son."

"I have no children, you idiot boy."

"Oh no?" Hermione tested. "Then I suppose you're just very attached to Porthos, hmm?" She glared at the disgusting General for a moment before resuming her comment. "Porthos is your son whether you admit it or not. I heard the two of you talking some time ago, and I heard him call you father. I'm not the only one either… Aramis had heard it, too." The Duke glanced from Hermione to Mardon in shock. He looked as though he hardly knew what to say. Tom and Hermione's expressions were becoming more and more fiercely triumphant by the moment. The General, conversely, was looking very much like a volcano ready to erupt.

"Porthos is nothing more than a young soldier under my command as the head of the militia! He's an upstanding, youthful boy whom I recognize as a great potential second in charge!" Mardon argued ferociously.

"What a lie!" Tom bellowed, his voice echoing in the banquet hall. "Porthos is your son, and you know it. That's why you tried to shove him off on the Princess, so that he would be the one to becoming King, and you could run the country from not only the military, but the throne as well."

"Aramis, you are not helping the situation. Take-"

"I'm warning you, you imbecilic boy; one more outburst of that nature from you, and I'll have you escorted from the premises to be thrown into the jailhouse," Mardon threatened.

"You will do no such act," Hermione snapped. "I'll see to it that it is prevented from ever happening."

"See?" yelled Mardon. "This is the kind of influence I was talking about! Aramis D'Artagnan has the Princess wrapped around his finger and doing whatever he pleases. He probably forced her hand to poison the King so that he could take the throne sooner. You just couldn't stand it that his majesty was recovering so well, now could you?"

"In case you don't remember," Tom snarled, "I was injured, too! I tried to save the King. The Duke can prove that; he was there and saw me try to shield the King from harm. Besides, I didn't see you or Porthos jumping into the line of fire for your king!"

"Aramis, we all know that you saved our beloved friend from even greater dang-"

"Don't try to defend him," the General practically ordered the Duke. "He's nothing but a fake! I bet that he staged that attack so he could throw all suspicion from himself when he poisoned the King, seduced the Princess, and took the throne…. What he didn't count on was me catching on to him."

"You're stark raving mad!" Hermione commented disbelievingly. "Aramis and I know exactly who organized that little death plan."

"You do?" the Duke gasped.

"Yes, we do," she stated confidently. "Mardon and Porthos…. Don't you remember how they hesitated to go after those men? How they hesitated to shoot at the assassins or even to get down from their horses and help you with my father until you ordered them to. Do you remember that? They're as guilty as the sky is blue and the grass green. They should be thrown into jail themselves."

"She speaks nothing but nonsense. Have you ever noticed the change in her since she has returned to us with Aramis after running off with that peasant baker's son?" Mardon suggested venomously.

"Don't be daft, man," the Duke dismissed. "She's still the same Anastasia that we know and love."

"Wrong!" Mardon disagreed angrily. "She was so convinced that she loved that baker's son that she was willing to run away with him and forsake her country and blood duty just to be with him. She had went against her father's wishes just to have her love, now what could change a love so strong? I believe D'Artagnan has poisoned her mind like he's tried to poison our beloved king!"

"Sit down and shut up, you babbling fool!" Hermione growled. "I never loved that boy, I hardly knew him. I was foolish to have run away with him, and Aramis made me see that when he came to my rescue. Who knows what would have happened to me otherwise!"

"See? See? She even admits that Aramis convinced her that her love was wrong. He forced himself upon her, and now she's been tricked into thinking this is love!"

"Aramis does love me, and I him," she wailed furiously. "You're the one who tried to push your son, Porthos, off onto me! You kept shoving him in my father's face. Always bragging about how much of a fine gentleman he was and telling my father that he would be good for me; you and I both know you did. Well, I've got news for you, I saw right through your rouse, and you and your son both are appalling and grotesque to me!"

"Porthos is not my son! And even if he was, I had never and will never shove him onto you or the King!"

"Lie!" Riddle roared just as the door to the hall opened. The Duchess entered, her appearance frazzled, yet taken aback by all the yelling that she had just heard.

"What is going on in here?" she inquired in weary amazement.

"I've found who's poisoned the King!" Mardon replied madly before anyone could speak.

"Oh, don't be so foolish, Mardon!" Duke Rodden cried defensively, looking from his wife to the insane general. "You can't prove that either Ana or Aramis did this, and it's an idiotic idea to begin with. Everyone knows that Ana loves her father and wishes him better."

"Fine then! Princess Anastasia had nothing to do with it, but Aramis did! He probably sneaked up to the King's room and poisoned him before Anastasia went to see him this morning," Mardon guessed passionately as the Duchess gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth.

"I did nothing of the sort!" Tom denied.

"How do we know that you're telling the truth?" Mardon bellowed.

"Because I was with him since the early hours of the morning… when it was still dark out," Hermione interjected, drawing another astounded intake of breath from the older of the two women in the room. "And besides, I saw Porthos on his way down the hall this morning, coming from the direction of my father's room and looking rather pleased with his cocky little self. I bet that he did it!"

"Porthos was probably just checking on the King," Mardon defended.

"Why do you stand up for him so if he's not your son, hmm?" Tom prompted nastily.

"Let's bring him in then, shall we?" Mardon suggested fearlessly. "I'll show you that I'm right about Porthos and that you've done this." The General rose form his seat and crossed the room to the door. He opened it violently and called to someone outside. Footsteps fell quickly; boots hitting the ground at a running pace. Suddenly, there was a young soldier at the door. He looked to Mardon who gave him instructions to go find Porthos and bring him to the hall. The General returned to his seat as Rodmilla lowered herself into a chair beside her husband who looked rather stressed as he rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples. Hermione, who sat across from the Duchess, resumed her seat once more and pulled on Tom's sleeve. He sat back down in the seat on Hermione's right, glaring at Mardon who was a seat away at the head of the table.

Silence was thick and tense in the room as they waited. It seemed like an eternity until Porthos arrived. He entered the room looking spitefully pleased with himself. He walked over to the General and stood stalk still on Mardon's right.

"Take a seat, Porthos," the General instructed, waving his hand at the empty chair to his left, the one that was right beside Tom. The boys glowered at one another for a moment before Porthos followed orders and took the chair he was offered.

"What seems to be the trouble, my general?" the blond inquired, his tone so fake that Hermione almost gagged as she clung to Riddle's arm, which was keeping him in his seat.

"Aramis and Princess Anastasia seem to think that you are conspiring against our king," Mardon explained calmly.

"Conspiring against him, sir?" Porthos asked, acting surprised and slightly appalled.

"Don't act so coy and naïve, you little bastard," Tom growled, making the Duchess gasp as the General glared.

"Now, now, Aramis, m'boy. Let's keep things civil," the Duke declared in a gentlemanly fashion.

"He's lying… I saw you when I was outside the Princess's room this morning. You were heading back from the direction of the King's room," Riddle snarled. "Explain that!"

"I was merely leaving my post. I had been stationed outside the King's room that night because there had been some suspicious activity from two maids," Porthos replied simply as though Tom were a fool.

"What two maids?" Hermione asked as though she feared the answer.

"Your ladies in waiting," Porthos answered.

"They were doing nothing wrong," she challenged. "I have them keeping an eye on everything that goes into my father's room for my own paranoia. I worry about what food and such is sent to him - no offense to either of you," she added as she looked to the Duke and Duchess.

"None taken, Ana, love," Rodden sighed. "You're concerned and worried about your father, so it's understandable."

"So, Porthos," Tom interrupted, bringing them back to the topic at hand. "Who stationed you there?"

"The General."

"Curious that he should," Riddle said in a low, rumbling tone. "I mean, since the two of you are trying to kill him off."

"We would never!" Porthos erupted. "How dare you accuse the General and myself of trying to end the King's life! We protect it everyday!"

"Don't be such a liar!" the future Dark Lord bellowed, rising from his seat with Hermione's arm still gripping his sleeve, though she made no attempt to pull him back down into the chair. "I heard you on numerous occasions plotting against the King and even the Princess," he said thrusting a finger at Hermione. "You even threatened my life because you knew I heard you."

"It's true," Hermione affirmed. "I even interrupted you threatening Aramis."

Porthos and the General said nothing as they both simply glared in Hermione and Tom's directions. Suddenly a nurse came rushing in. She curtsied and moved to the side of Rodmilla, leaning towards the Duchess's ear and whispering something.

"Thank you, Elaine," Rodmilla dismissed while nodding. The nurse left the room swiftly, and the Duchess turned back to everyone. "The King is extremely weak, but he's going to make it through the day at least. We just need to get him fed and keep his temperature down. They said that he's delirious right now, but that once they get his fever down, he should be fine to question as to what he drank."

Hermione sighed with relief and slumped back in the chair as Tom grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. Porthos continued to glare around the table as the General rose from his seat.

"Then there's no sense pursuing this subject any further," Mardon announced. "Let us retire to our quarters until we're alerted of the King's well-being." Everyone rose without word, and Porthos then came face-to-face with Tim. Their expression were nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred and complete contempt for one another.

"We'll see who the King says poisoned him when he wakes, Aramis D'Artagnan," the blond boy hissed. "Then my honor will be upheld."

Hermione pulled at Riddle's wrist, taking him with her as his fists clenched. They were almost to the door, the Duchess and Duke ahead of them as they left, while Porthos was left standing at the table as the General had already left the room.

"You have no honor… you're nothing but a gutless bitch," Tom added as he left with Hermione.

Porthos whipped around and came after him as his face went more and more red with each step.

"I have honor, and I'll prove it! I challenge you to a duel. Be outside near the edge of the woods at dusk!" Porthos ordered. "Unless you're a coward."

"This is nonsense!" Rodmilla and Hermione cried in unison.

"You can't go," Hermione gushed frantically with her eyes searching Tom's face desperately for some sign that might say he wouldn't go.

"Don't be late to your own death, Porthos," Riddle remarked, his tone final and full of loathing as he put an arm around Hermione's shoulder and led her away.

The Duchess sighed despairingly as Rodden patted Tom's shoulder when he passed before turning to his wife and pulling her into a small hug. Many now feared the setting of the sun that night. Would the King actually make it like they thought? And would there be another death between Porthos and Tom?


	33. Die With Honor

**A/N:** My apologies for the extremely long wait everyone. My grandpa was in the hospital for a while there, so I wasn't really up to writing which made this chapter impossible to finish. And when he finally came home, I got sick, so there was a spell there where I was, again, unwilling to write. Not to mention I'm busy with last minute projects for my last week of Winter classes. But anyways, on to the thank you's. Thanks to: _.o0Aurelie0o., The Almighty Cheez It, nehimasgift, san01, Skavnema, the. dead. addict., LandUnderWave, katrin4p, xflint, Gueneviere, Silver Tears 11, marauder'sbabe, Lolaleddir, libaka, Autumn's-Smile, siriushermionelover, The daughter of Slytherin, Insane But Cute, o0Dreamer0o, _and _echo9821._

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**Chapter 33 - Die With Honor**

"He's awoken!" Mary screamed as she burst into Hermione's room. "The King has awoken. The Duke and Duchess are awaiting you and Aramis so that they can go in and talk with him."

Hermione got up off her chair so quickly that it almost toppled as she discarded her book to the floor and clumsily rushed to the door. She led the way to the King's room, Mary jogging behind her to keep up. When the two got there, Rodden and Rodmilla were waiting outside the room.

"Why are we wa-," Hermione began, but never got to finish that sentence as footsteps approached. She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Tom and was rather annoyed and disappointed to see Porthos and his father, the General. "What are they doing here?" Hermione grumbled.

"We're here because we have a right, as protectors of the crown, to assure ourselves that the King is all right. Not to mention, since our loyalty and integrity were put into question by yourself and Aramis, we have a right to be here to defend ourselves and make sure that we're given a fair chance," the General explained somewhat rudely.

More footsteps sounded in the corridor as the four fell silent, Hermione glowering in the direction of Porthos and Mardon. Janessa and Tom came into view from the other end of the corridor. Riddle stopped beside his soon-to-be wife and looked to the castle's owners. The Duke knocked and a nurse opened the door only enough to peer out.

"We've come to see his majesty," Rodmilla informed.

"I can't allow all of you to come in at once. That would be too much excitement for him in one sitting," the nurse objected as she looked among the six who waited outside the door.

"Aramis and Porthos shall wait, then," Hermione informed. "With myself to defend Aramis should any suspicions arise, and the General to be Porthos' defense. The Duke and Duchess should both be allowed to enter as it is their abode we're in."

The nurse nodded, but the Duchess brought up an objection.

"Is it wise to leave these two in the corridor without watch?" she inquired, gesturing to the two younger men.

"I assure you, Duchess Rodmilla, that I shall not harm hide nor hair on Porthos' head until the duel later," Tom spoke regally as he nodded assurance to her. That said, Rodden ushered the Duchess and Hermione into the King's quarters, the General following him after giving Riddle a revolted grimace.

"I hope you've said a good, memorable farewell to your bride-to-be," Porthos muttered once the door was shut.

"Why would I? You're the one going to die," Tom shrugged simply.

"It's a shame that you should choose to fool yourself in such a manner," the blond continued with a sneer. "Denying your eminent death will only make it that much worse when it does come."

"You, Prat-thos, should take your own advice," Riddle added while looking lazily from Porthos to the left at the end of the corridor.

"My advice is that you'll either hang for treason to the King, or by my own doing," the blue-eyed boy remarked in a snide fashion.

"The only one who is going to hang for treason will be you… and probably the General, too."

Meanwhile, inside the room, Hermione stood back with the Duchess holding her by the shoulders as the Duke stood to the left of them. The General stood a few feet to the right, his eyes intently staring at the King who was being tended to by a nurse.

"I believe he's ready for any questions you may pose, but please try and keep him calm," the aide advised as she rose from the bed's edge and crossed the room to clean up the mess of water basins, medicinal instruments, and such.

"How are you feeling, old fellow?" asked Rodden.

"Better… better than this morning. Where's Ana?" the King responded.

"Right here," Rodmilla answered, giving Hermione a little shove forward. She frowned uncomfortably, almost reluctant to get near the man because of the way she had found him that morning. Swallowing back her fear, she took a seat on the edge of the bed and took the King's clammy left hand into her own two delicate, pale ones. She forced a smile and spoke up.

"Can... can you tell us what happened to you, Father?" she questioned. "Tell us what led up to Aramis and myself finding you like you were this morning. What is the last thing that you remember?" There was a pause as the King stared at her. His eyes seemed to be searching her face for something only he knew the purpose of. She stared back, her own eyes pleading him to tell them that it was Porthos he last saw, and Porthos who had given him the poisoned glass. With a sigh, the King laid his head back so that he was staring at the canopy of his large bed. He drew a rasping breath and looked back at his supposed daughter.

"The last thing I remember was falling asleep after talking with you and Aramis, Ana," he explained, his eyes never leaving hers. He looked as though he were in a trance as he continued. "I remember the two of you arguing about whether you really wanted to go through with your engagement and marriage. You left me and didn't return for some time so I went to sleep, figuring that you would be back in the morning. I woke feeling parched and drank from the glass and pitcher that had been sitting upon the nightstand," he finished, gesturing to the cherry wood stand that was to the right of his bed.

"You don't remember anyone coming into the room after Aramis and I?" Hermione asked almost frantically.

"No, Ana, I don't," the King replied.

"But you must," she pleaded, squeezing his hand. "I don't even recall there being a glass and pitcher on the nightstand when I came in to talk to you."

"Ana, please, don't excite him," the Duke began.

"You say that Aramis and I left the room and didn't come back, correct?" The King nodded while the Duke and Duchess exchanged worried glances. Mardon, however, was smirking as though in triumph. "Okay, then," Hermione breathed. "We never came back until this morning; he just proved that. And when we did come back, we found him already poisoned, so that proves it couldn't have been Aramis and I."

"Wrong," the General spoke up sternly. "That only proves that you didn't return while the King was awake. Who's to say you didn't return after he was asleep, place the poisoned glass, and then left until this morning when you could be sure that he had been done in?"

"Rubbish!" Hermione cried as she rose from the bed hysterically.

"I can't allow you to stay if this is going to be the result. I told you that you'll have to keep things calm," the nurse commanded.

"E-enough!" the King tried to bellow, which only sent the man into a coughing fit. "My… my daughter would never do me harm…. She's in no hurry to take the throne, so she would never try to do away with me."

"Maybe she wouldn't," Mardon argued, "but what about her fiancé, Aramis? He seems rather eager to take the throne, doesn't he?"

"You get more and more preposterous with each accusation you make! Aramis loves me and would never harm my father because he knows that it would bring sorrow to me," Hermione pointed out.

"Or so you think!" the General continued to fight.

"I say, you're out of line there. Yelling at the Princess. You're sworn to protect her and her father, not argue and accuse her of trying to do her father ill-being," the Duke interrupted.

"There's no real way to tell who's guilty here," Rodmilla spoke wisely, walking over to Hermione to place a hand on her shoulder for comfort. "All we're going to be doing is pointing fingers at one another because it's one party's word against another…. For now, all we can do is double security on the King and allow no one into his room without guard."

"You have to believe that Aramis and I are telling the truth," the younger woman pleaded as she turned back to the King. "You know we wouldn't harm you. You most of all know that neither of us are truly ready or even sure about taking the throne, so why would either of us want you gone?"

"I know, Ana, I know," he sighed as the nurse pushed the party from the room.

Tom was right there when Hermione emerged. He saw the troubled look in her eyes as she walked up to him, and he wished that he could remove the doubt and hurt that filled her as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Riddle fixed Mardon and Porthos with a fierce stare as they walked away, both glancing back with equal dislike.

* * *

"Tom, you mustn't go… please!" Hermione pleaded as she followed him down a corridor of the Duke's castle, tugging at his sleeve cuffs. 

"Hermione, c'mon… nothing will happen. I'm just going to go out there and give that prat what he has coming to him," he huffed in exhaustion as he turned and looked at her with dwindling patience.

"But what if he has something up his sleeve that you don't know about? What if he has some kind of stake-out like they did in the woods?" she pointed out.

"You forget so easily that I'm a-," he stopped as a door down the hall opened and the Duke emerged.

"Duke Rodden," Hermione called. He turned to face them and smiled, or at least gave a weak attempt at a smile. He approached slowly, in a more than tired manner.

"Shall I walk you down, Aramis?" he asked, cutting straight to the point.

"But… you… you can't," she cried. "You must tell him that this is nonsense and that he's not to go. He should just let Porthos wait outside all night long like a fool."

"I'm afraid that's not my decision, Ana," Rodden sighed as he and Tom turned away from her to start down the corridor.

"You're being foolish!" she called, rooted to the spot with desperation and confusion on what to do next.

"Give me a moment with her," Riddle muttered before turning around and walking back to her. He pulled her into a nearby room, its contents nothing more than some very dusty old furniture, among it a baby's crib. It could have only been the room that had been set aside for the arrival of Rodden and Rodmilla's once expected children. Grabbing Hermione firmly by her elbows, Tom looked into her eyes with such a serious, but expressionless face that her protests became lodged in her throat. "I'm a wizard… the greatest there will ever be, in fact, and I'm more than capable of beating some moronic little Muggle soldier boy. Besides, I've never backed down from a challenge, and I won't start now, especially when my integrity, pride, and sense of self are on the line."

"But they don't know you as Tom Riddle. Porthos isn't challenging Tom Marvolo Riddle. He thinks he's challenging Aramis, a boy from the eighteenth century whose missing in search of the real Princess Anastasia. So what does your integrity and pride and sense of self have to do with it?" Hermione beseeched.

"It's a matter of more than just a name, Granger. Porthos was issuing his contest to me, whether he knew I was really Aramis or not. This is something I have to do... especially if we face being stuck here for the rest of our lives; I won't be known as a coward then."

She could make no more argument as he turned, opened the door, and left. The door closed softly of its own accord as she looked around the room and sighed. If she couldn't persuade him, then she would at least be there to make sure nothing went wrong. Leaving the room, Hermione feared she might be late when she noticed they weren't in the corridor any longer. Rushing down to the entrance hall, her fears were calmed a bit when she saw that Duchess Rodmilla had stalled them. She, too, was giving protests of the situation, causing the Duke to quarrel with her on the matter.

"It doesn't matter, Rodmilla; it's not our choi-"

"Anastasia!" she exclaimed as she saw Hermione heading towards Tom to tell him she would be there to support him. "You must forbid them. As Princess you might have some right to-"

"She has none, and you know that," the Duke interrupted.

"But you must tell him he can't d-," his wife continued to bicker hysterically, but she was once more interrupted; this time by Hermione.

"I'm sorry, Duchess Rodmilla, but I can do nothing except offer my support to Aramis. He feels that he has to do this," she spoke softly as she looked to him, "and as the girl who loves him, I wish to see him fulfill his whims and find completion in his life. If this is what he has to do to satisfy himself, then I will stand by him, albeit reluctantly and with fear and worry for him, but I'll stand by him nonetheless." Silence followed Hermione's speech. Riddle took her hand in his, and the two of them accompanied by the Duke walked outside. The sun was well on its way to disappearing completely, and the sky was a bloody red; an omen that all felt held no favor for one of the young men about to duel.

"Anastasia, you cannot go out there!" the Duchess shouted from the entrance hall. "Your father surely wouldn't want you to witness such an event."

"Rodmilla, please," her husband barked. "She has expressed her wish to stand beside Aramis, and that we will let her do. She has a right as his fiancé and the one who was supporting him through today's earlier dispute to be there during the duel." The Duchess made no more moves to stop them, but her sobs could be heard as Mary and Janessa took her off to her room before she fainted.

Meanwhile, Hermione's stomach was twisting itself into knots, and she kept looking to her sleeve where her wand was stashed. She would be ready to aide Riddle this time should any foul play arise. From the corner of his eye, Tom could see her worried face bowed towards the ground, her eyes following their every step. He felt as though he were an executioner walking her to the gallows for a hanging. They were to the edge of the woods within minutes, their silence a constant, unbroken fear until they heard Porthos begin to call his taunts to Tom.

"You're late! Having second thoughts?" he bellowed as he slipped dark brown, leather gloves onto his hands. The General was standing with him, quiet and looking almost disapproving.

"Let's just finish this gents," the Duke frowned as he walked up to the stable boy and inspected both pistols that were laying on the silver platter the boy was holding. When he seemed satisfied, he turned and walked back towards Hermione whose face was creased with lines of worry as she frowned deeply.

"Please," she whispered to Tom who just shook his head and caressed her cheek with his thumb. It was a rough sort of feeling, and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was about to take place.

Riddle turned, about to approach Porthos who stood next to the stable boy with Mardon behind the two of them, but Hermione grabbed his wrist. He rounded back to her, and she stood on tip toe to place a quick, gentle kiss on his lips. Running his fingers through her curls when she pulled back, he felt that he had to show Porthos no mercy. Tom raised Hermione's chin as she tried to bow her head and hide her scared expression, her eyes still pleading with him to say no to Porthos and head back to the castle.

"I won't lose," he spoke softly so that only they could hear.

"C'mon!" Porthos groaned impatiently. "You've had all day to bid her farewell. Now it's time you face up to things like a man."

Turning towards the jeering, Riddle's eyes narrowed as he felt a deep-seated hatred towards the blond-haired boy. Walking over, Tom grabbed the nearest of the pistols off the tray and sneered.

"I believe you both know the rules here," Mardon spoke nonchalantly. "Take your pistols and stand back to back."

Porthos took the remaining pistol from the tray, and the stable boy took a step back. Riddle glared at his opponent, reluctant to be the first to turn away from the untrustworthy pair of the General and his son. Shrugging as though to show he were fearless of Tom, the blond-haired boy turned around and pretended to examine his gun as he waited for Riddle to follow suit. Keeping his eye loosely on Porthos, he turned, their backs barely touching as only their jackets scarcely brushed the other.

Hermione felt her stomach clenching tighter as Tom shot her a glance from the corner of her eye. She crossed her arms over her midsection and used her left hand to push at her wand that was up her right sleeve. The wooden instruments slid slowly down the underside of her forearm until the tip rested between her thumb and index finger. As both boys held their heads high, Mardon pulled his own pistol from his belt. Hermione eyed him nervously, her chocolate orbs bouncing back and forth from the pair who were about to duel to Mardon as he spoke.

"You both have six rounds in your pistols. To prove that they both work, fire a shot towards the west now."

Tom raised the pistol in his right hand towards the sunset. He looked down his arm, weighing the gun in his mind. It was heavier than he had anticipated, the handle within his grip bulky and awkward. Riddle then let his gaze move to Porthos' left arm which held out his own pistol to the sunset as well.

"Fire!" yelled Mardon, and both pulled their triggers, Porthos' gun firing a few seconds before Tom's. "Now that you see that both are in working condition, put your guns back to your sides…. When I fire my pistol, you will take exactly ten paces, turn, and fire."

Hermione felt desperate to stop this now. She turned to Duke Rodden and gave a beseeching look.

"Please stop this. You have the power to refuse to let this go on," she murmured. "This is your castle, and you can refuse to let this happen on your grounds."

"But it is their duel, their quarrel. I haven't the right to intervene there," he denied as he reached out and put an arm around her. She remained a moment, watching as the General raised his firearm into the air. She flinched when the round was fired, and the first of the steps were taken.

"One!" counted Mardon loudly.

Hermione turned away for a second, the Duke releasing his hold on her.

"Two!"

Tom felt the urge to turn and fire his gun burning within his limbs, but he pushed it down; that would make him look like a coward to shoot Porthos in the back, so he wouldn't even consider it.

"Three!"

Feeling that she needed to do something, Hermione thought frantically about the possibilities she had before her. She could do something to Porthos' gun so that it would backfire, or just not shoot at all.

"Four!"

But Tom would be furious with her if he found out, and he most certainly would figure out that she had done something since both guns were in working order.

"Five!" Mardon bellowed, half finished counting.

Tom kept his eyes straight ahead, his palms beginning to sweat with an odd eagerness and nervousness.

"Six!"

'_Four more paces. Keep your mind clear and on the task!_' Tom scolded himself.

"Seven!"

'_Three more paces!_' Hermione thought frenetically. '_There must be something I can do. Think!_'

"Eight!" Mardon yelled, his eyes fixated on his son who seemed like he was in an odd trance as he stepped in time with his father's counting. "Nine!"

Hermione felt sick now, and her legs were weak. Would Tom survive this time if he were shot again? Would Porthos be as bad a shot as the assassins in the woods? She knew now that there was nothing she could really do besides be the support Tom needed.

"Ten!"

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Both boys whipped around, their guns firing simultaneously. Hermione collapsed to the ground as no more shots were heard. She hadn't time to see what happened as Duke Rodden rushed to her side and blocked her view. Her hearing was strangely muffled, and everything seemed to be in slow motion. What had happened?


	34. Return to London

**A/N:** Let's keep this short & sweet because you've waited long enough for this chapter. Thanks to: _katrin4p, Gueneviere, o0Dreamer0o, xflint, GitaMerah, marauder'sbabe, The Almighty Cheez It, LandUnderWave, Demonic-Little-Angel, Featherstrike, the. dead. addict., nehimasgift, Charming-Lynn, .o0Aurelie0o., The daughter of Slytherin, libaka, jennie351, Cryptic Sarcasm, echo9821, Autumn's-Smile, Lolaleddir, arushi, Vera-Sabe, karine.snake, Seriously Sirius Marauder, Emerald-Eyed Phoenix, Rampart, ellamalfoy8, pottersgirl91, PhanPhic-adict, Hater-of-heartless-critics, _and _Alana84._

If there's any mistakes, forgive me; I'm like dead to everything right now. On with the chapter...

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**Chapter 34 - Return to London**

Hermione couldn't open her eyes. Couldn't or wouldn't was a debate within her mind, but either way, she felt it was that she couldn't. She didn't want to know what had went on or who had been shot. She wasn't so sure as to why she didn't want to look. She was positive that she knew what had happened. She had, after all, assisted the situation, but she couldn't let Tom know that.

"Anastasia, are you all right?" came the concerned voice of the Duke as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her gently to her feet.

She squinted in the direction of his tone and found herself feeling relaxed with the relief on his face. Her eyes moved slowly over to where Tom should have been standing, but he was no longer there. Where had he gone? Surely her last second spell hadn't made him disappear, and he wouldn't have Disapparated, would he? He wouldn't risk that exposure, she was certain, and Rodden wouldn't look that relieved if either of those events had happened anyways. She continued to look about the area, finally spotting Riddle who was handing the pistol he had used to the stable boy as Mardon crouched over Porthos and called for help. She sighed with respite; her spell had worked. But a sinking feeling hit her stomach anyways. Evil or not, she wasn't sure Porthos just deserved to lay there and die. He was young and manipulated by his father into trying to commit treason against the King.

"Someone needs to help him," she muttered to the Duke as she nodded in the direction of Mardon and his dying son.

"I'll send for the nurses," Rodden sighed as he let go of her and stepped away to give his assistance. As he passed Tom, he shook his hand and gave him a pat on the shoulder in congratulations. Riddle continued on his way over to Hermione, a triumphant smile on his face.

"I told you that I would be fine," he spoke arrogantly as he wore the world's cockiest smirk; one that had once graced his features during every waking moment.

She smiled uncertainly, and he seemed to study her for a moment.

"You're not happy, are you?" he inquired, feeling that he wouldn't like any answer she would give. He had expected her to come running out to him when it was apparent that he had won and jump into his arms in congratulations. This was a sad form of celebration on his victory in his eyes.

"It's just that I didn't like this idea in the first place. Porthos should be jailed for the rest of his life, not laying in some field after being shot only so he can bleed to death," she replied.

"But look at what he and the General did to the King. Do you think that he deserved to be laying in his bed, unsuspecting, and take a drink and die?" Hermione gave no spoken response, but instead, she shook her head and avoided eye contact with Tom. "Sometimes I really don't understand you, Granger," he grumbled as he crossed his arms and gave a displeased expression.

"Death is the wrong answer for someone so young, or even someone kind and unsuspecting. We're not meant to play God and decide who should die and who shouldn't for their crimes. If Porthos was to have been punished for his acts against the King, then he should have had to rot for the rest of his life in a dirty, dingy cell where he could be remorseful and regretful for all that he had done!" Her chest was heaving, and she felt despaired. Was Tom honestly losing sight of the good that she had worked so hard to bring out of him? Was he going back to being the ruthless, heartless being who thought death a minor and trivial thing? "I'm begging you to understand," she proceeded. "I think that a lifetime of rueful solitude and desolation spent in a dismal, lonely place is far more deserving than a painful, sorrowful, and humiliating death. It almost seems as though he's getting off somewhat easy to die within minutes instead of spending everyday wishing he had never followed his father's orders."

In all truthfulness, she didn't think that losing one's life was getting off easier, but it didn't seem like as formidable a punishment as having to live in a horrid prison until their natural dying day. And of course, to lose a son would be a grave punishment for Mardon, but why should Porthos suffer to be his father's repent? If anyone should lay dying, it was the General, and not his boy.

"Fine, deal with this how you like," Tom huffed. "I just thought that you might be a little more ecstatic towards the fact that it isn't I who lays there dying at this moment," he finished as he thrust is finger in the direction of Porthos, who was now being given makeshift bandages so he could be taken up to the castle.

Hermione frowned and stared at the ground, unwilling to look at Riddle as he stalked off while the cries of a pained Porthos rang in her ears.

* * *

Hermione sat in the back garden. She and Tom hadn't spoken for two days now. He wouldn't sit near her at meals; the closest that he would get was to sit across the table from her. He didn't go with her to visit the King who was now allowed up out of the bed to wander the castle with the accompaniment of two guards and a nurse at the very least. Riddle didn't visit her at night to talk about their engagement or even getting back to the future. It would seem that they were at a sticky point in their odd relationship. She shifted on the uncomfortable stone bench. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there, but the sun had moved considerably from its high point towards the west. Her legs were slightly numb from sitting for so long, and birds had even settled around her to eat seed and bread crumbs off the path. A crunch of gravel behind her told her that she would soon see some company. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, she peered over her shoulder to see Duke Rodden heading in her direction. He offered a smile and sat down next to her. 

"Have you packed yet?" he inquired as he picked some bird seed out of a nearby feeder basin and tossed it on the ground as the birds settled back down from the scare his arrival brought. She didn't verbalize her answer, but instead nodded as the wind picked up a bit and tossed her hair about her face. The birds took to the skies, and her chocolate eyes followed them until they were tiny specs on the western horizon.

"Will you be accompanying us home tomorrow?" she asked of him, finally speaking after a few moments more of silence.

"Yes, for your father's sake."

"And the Duchess?" Hermione mentioned.

"She'll be staying behind as I'll only be with you in London for a week or less, but I promise you that we will return for your wedding. I don't think Rodmilla would miss it for the world; you've become as much like a daughter to her as any child of our own could have been." Thunder rumbled in the distance as he finished with a loud sigh. "We had best be getting inside. It doesn't look like the sky is going to hold out much longer on this rain," Rodden pointed out as he rose and nodded towards the east while dusting himself off.

Hermione said nothing as she reluctantly rose from her seat. She didn't want to go back into the castle for some reason. She knew there was all the room in the world inside those stone walls, but she just felt relieved outside. It was as though the fresh air, which now carried the smell of rain upon its breezy wings, cleansed her of her troubles and gave her a sense of relaxed self content.

Following slowly behind the Duke, she became entranced by the rhythmic movement of her own feet. Right, left. Right, left. She wasn't even thinking now, and suddenly, the turn in the path awoke her from her reverie. She didn't even really remember walking all the way up the path from the garden, but as she looked about, she noticed that the grass was moving in ripples. Dark green waves that looked so lush and refreshing to her. Her eyes scanned the grounds. Deserted. No one was about, not even the Duke. He had obviously went into the castle because the door was creeping slowly shut. A loud noise to her right made her eyes dart towards the stables. There a horse of a dark maple color stood stamping its feet and tossing its head. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the horse reared slightly, but it barely got its feet off the ground from the way it was tethered. Feeling sorry for the poor, scared animal, Hermione approached and uncertainly grabbed the reins with which it was tied. Spotting her, the creature stood stock still; the only movement it made was that of its left foreleg stamping lightly at the ground in a counting fashion.

Hermione smiled faintly as she untied the horse and looked around the stable. There was, just as before, no one in sight. A brush lay forgotten on the ground and next to it a toppled stool. Hay littered the walkway between the stalls where other horses stood munching lazily on feed bags or laid leisurely upon their sides while snoozing. Looking back to the animal beside her, Hermione felt compelled to remain its companion for the remainder of the storm. Opting not to put the horse into a stall, she stood running her hand down the bridge of its nose as she stared into the steed's onyx orbs. There was something so calming about the way that one large, shining eye stared at her. She felt lost in the gaze and barely noticed that a smile was gracing her lips. She walked around the steed and turned the stool upright. Stepping up onto the wooden seat, she wobbled a bit as she pulled the maple-colored mare towards her. Tossing her leg over the saddle, she braced her feet into the stirrups and leaned forward.

"Feel like going for a run?" she whispered as she pulled lightly on the left side of the reins. On cue, the horse turned on the spot to the left. Looking up to the castle windows, Hermione smiled to see that no one was looking. Snapping the reins, she felt the horse move beneath her. The familiar shift of the saddle came to her, and once she was back to the path that led to the garden, she urged the mare to go faster. Now into a trot, she failed to notice someone watching her from the window of her quarters as rain started to drizzle down.

* * *

Hair drenched and separated into slick, wet strand groupings, she dismounted the mare and walked out into the middle of the meadow she had rode into. Her dress was soaked, and the fabric stuck to her in awkward ways, but she didn't care. Putting her head back, she closed her eyes and held out her arms, spinning slowly in a circle. She smiled and imagined opening her eyes to see herself on the grounds of Hogwarts with Harry and Ron running up from the greenhouses after Herbology. She stopped spinning, but she didn't open her eyes, instead she imagined herself at the Burrow with the whole Weasley family. She pictured herself blindfolded, calling out 'Marco' and trying to catch the others as they played the Muggle game Mr. Weasley had had her show them. 

To her surprise, her ears did hear a sound.

"Granger!"

Her eyes snapped open, and she watched as Tom came riding through the forest and out onto the meadow.

"Are you daft?" he bellowed as he dismounted in a hurry. "You'll catch your death like this. Haven't you ever heard of pneumonia?" He stopped before her, staring down in annoyance at the blissful smirk on her face. "We can't have you getting sick. Even if the King is getting better, it won't do to have you fall ill. They don't have the medicinal advances it takes to deal with such a sickness."

"There's magic," she spouted without so much as a thought on it. She had never taken advantage of the fact that magic was there for her before, so why did she just do it now?

He didn't say anything to her as she stood there before him, just as silent as he. Without so much as a wink or warning, she stepped back and spun around as a humph of content emanated from her throat when she laid her head back once more.

"What are you doing?" Tom snapped.

"Dancing in the rain," she replied as though it were completely obvious, which it truly was.

"You're completely delusional," he said as though he were one-hundred percent convinced she belonged in a mad house.

"Maybe so," she shrugged as she stopped spinning and breathed deep, the air around her saturated with a wet copper smell that was the scent of rain. "You know," she sighed as she walked over to her horse and began petting the bridge of its nose, "you said the other day, after your duel with Porthos, that I didn't care that you made it out of the duel. You were wrong."

"Oh?" he voiced, walking over to stand beside her steed.

"Yes. In fact, the truth is you wouldn't be alive if it hadn't been for my worrying about you," she stated modestly.

"Is that so?" he chuckled, amused by the fact that she thought she had been his salvation in that duel. To him the truth was that he had a natural skill with weapons and in fights.

"Yes, that is so. You think it was nothing more than your good luck, well, I've got news for you… Porthos' gun didn't fire. That's why you're still alive. I knew that Porthos had been around guns all his life and that you wouldn't stand a chance, so I used magic to put a stop on him firing."

Tom just stared at her. At first, he seemed amused by the idea, but the longer she stood there staring at him with her pointed expression, the more confused looking he got. Until suddenly, his facial appearance was that of anger.

"You cheated then!" he snarled. "I didn't need your help. Who do you think you are to assume that I needed your assistance in any way?"

"It wasn't as though I really thought about it before actually letting myself help you. It was a natural reaction through magic. I was so worried that I suppose my subconscious just led me to do what I did," she explained a little tartly because she was somewhat fed up with his attitude towards her.

"Well, I didn't need your help," Riddle hissed.

"Oh no?" Hermione growled. "Then I suppose you would have preferred to be laying on the ground, moaning and shouting like Porthos was, hmm?"

"I wouldn't have been!" Tom shouted.

"Oh, Riddle, you're so full of yourself! If I hadn't stopped that bullet, you would have been shot, and just like Porthos, you would have been laying half dead in a bed up in the Duke's castle!" He glared at her for a moment with his eyes burning a hole in her head, or at least trying to. She stood her ground, however, and clenched her jaw as her lips pursed. Shaking his head, he turned away and headed in the direction of his own horse. "I cared for you and most certainly saved your life, and this is the thanks I get? You stalking away mad because I helped?" she called incredulously.

"Okay, Granger," he huffed as he turned to face her, walking his horse over so that he was standing beside her. "Let me put it to you in terms that you'll understand…. You're reading a really good book, but your so tired that you can't finish the last ten pages. How would you like it if I told you what happened at the end so that you could just quit and go to sleep?"

"That has absolutely nothing to do with me saving your life."

"Just answer me. Would you like if I did that?" Tom demanded.

"No!" she barked.

"Then understand this… I didn't want you to tell me what happened at the end of the book," Riddle grumbled before putting his foot into one of the stirrups so he could hoist himself up into the saddle.

Feeling frustrated and highly irate, Hermione stepped forward and kicked Tom's other foot out from under him. He fell instantly, the saddle sliding some as he tried to hold himself up. He winced and looked up, squinting against the rainfall as Hermione stood next to him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"You could have at least said thank you," she scolded. "This has nothing to do with books. You can't even compare those two things! Lives and stories are totally different through meaning…. I mean, if someone was to ruin a story or destroy a book, you can always get another or read it over. You can't, however, relive a life once it's taken and there's no getting another."

"What would you care about my life being taken anyways?" he murmured in irritation as he stood up, disgusted to see the back of his uniform covered in grass, mud, and rain water.

"Tom, you're a fool!" she roared in his face, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I worried myself sick over you and your life ever since you and Porthos agree to that challenge. I pleaded with you not to fight! Or did you even listen to me when I did? I cared enough to use magic in front of four Muggles to save your sorry behind!"

"If you cared at all, you would have left me to my pride and let me handle things on my own!"

"I told you that I had no real control over it. It was a natural reaction through magic because of my concern for you," she retaliated, her voice almost desperate for him to understand where she was coming from on this issue.

"Your concern for me?" he repeated in a slightly unbelieving tone, although he was no longer yelling.

"Yes," she breathed with exhaustion. There was a moment's pause as she searched for the answer; the way to express her thoughts and feelings to him. "Believe it or not, I do care for you. I thought you knew that…. I mean, why else would I have chosen you to marry?"

"This marriage isn't real, Hermione," he said simply, his tone even and uncaring. "It's just to save you the trouble of getting betrothed to some suitor or something."

"Is that what you think? Because I thought we discussed this and that we both had feelings for one another," she questioned dubiously.

"How am I supposed to not doubt those feelings that you say you have when you go around acting the way you do?" Riddle posed.

She frowned deeply and bowed her head to hide her disappointment from him. The sound of the rain hitting the saddles, and the steeds chewing at their bits was all she could hear besides the pounding of her own heart in her ears. Hermione raised her eyes to glance at him and saw that he was staring off into the distance behind her. In a moment's spur, she placed a gentle peck upon his cheek and mounted her horse, waiting for him to do the same. Her swift kiss had awoken him from his thoughts, and he straightened his saddle before climbing up onto the horse. Neither looked in the other's direction as they headed back towards the castle; there was nothing to say and staring would get them nowhere. It was best to just act as though the other were nonexistent for the moment and not acknowledge their presence until tomorrow at breakfast.

* * *

"This way, Ana," the Duke said as he pulled Hermione gently out of the way. Two servants passed with a large trunk and strapped it to the luggage rack on the back of the King's carriage. Hermione looked around, her eyes scanning for Tom in the bustle of stable boys, horses, servants, carriages, and other people. 

"Ana, I hope you enjoyed your stay here," the Duchess bid as she approached Hermione, two dogs resting in her arms.

"Yes, and I thank you and the Duke both for your… hospitality," she muttered as she continued to look for Riddle. Where was he?

"Something troubling you?" Rodmilla inquired.

"Have you seen Aramis this morning?" Hermione asked of the older woman.

"He was up rather early this morning at breakfast, but that wa- well, here he is," she beamed as Tom arrived.

"Sorry I'm late," he excused, "I had some last minute packing to do."

"If that's all then, I think we can safely get into the coach," the Duke administered, gesturing for Tom and Hermione to lead the way.

Riddle grabbed Hermione lightly by the elbow and urged her to walk beside him to the carriage. She looked over and up at him to see a placid, resigned expression on his face that told her he would just rather forget about their recent spats. Offering a friendly, fond smile, she looked back over her shoulder to see the Duke biding his wife goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. The vision warmed Hermione's heart, and she felt more relaxed than she ever had since she and Tom had landed in the past. There was a relief to think that they would be heading back to London. That relief was briefly interrupted though as she spotted Porthos being carried out of Rodmilla and Rodden's castle, the General right behind him.

"What's going to happen to him?" Hermione whispered to the Duke who had just joined her and Riddle a the foot of the carriage.

"He's going back to London to be placed up in a hospital under constant nurse's watch. That bullet nearly missed both his heart and his lung, so he's in bad shape right now."

"And the General? Is he coming back to the castle?" she questioned.

"Yes. Your father sees no real reason he shouldn't…. Is something still bothering you about them?" the Duke responded.

"I just think he should be with his son right now," Hermione mumbled before boarding the coach, Tom behind her.

The King and Duke Rodden joined them a moment later with the Duchess left behind waving fervently as the King called goodbyes out the carriage window. The lurching of the compartment and the crunch of gravel below the large, spoked wheels told Hermione that there was a long ride ahead of them, but that she would be going back to London and fewer troubles. Or so she thought.


	35. Wedding Festivities & Preparations

**A/N:** Ack! It's taking me so long to finish this story! I've never worked on one story for so long, but then again, I've never had a story go over into 30-some chapters either. Anyways, things have been hectic in the life and times of yours truly, so be patient with me, and we'll probably see the end of this fic soon. In the meantime, thanks to: _nehimasgift, Alana84, marauder'sbabe, Cryptic Sarcasm, KoolAidNightmare, o0Dreamer0o, Princess of Darkness-x, Hater-of-heartless-critics, Charming-Lynn, The daughter of Slytherin, emeraldice77, pheanix tears, bumblebee115, LandUnderWave, _and _Deceptive Fates._

Hopefully this chapter makes things partially worth the wait, although I must admit that no one reader or review of my story should have to wait that long at all. And keep in mind that you can always check out what's holding me up by visiting my website and my LiveJournal, both of which you can find links to on my profile page from FanFiction. Now, on with the chapter...

* * *

**Chapter 35 – Wedding Festivities & Preparations**

Hermione walked through the front doors of the King's castle in London and felt that she was relieved of all stress. That castle had grown to be like home to her, or at least a safety zone. She sighed and wished to do nothing more than retreat to the butterfly room with a good book. The journey home had been long, boring, and uncomfortable.

"Well, Ana," the King breathed, "it's good to be home, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Hermione replied as her ears prickled to the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned and saw Mima and Arthos on their way towards them. Hermione smiled and embraced her new friend who beamed as though she were the happiest girl in the world.

"I'm so glad that you're finally home," Mima whispered. "I have so much to tell you."

"Come, my friend," the King said, catching the attention of the two girls as he addressed the Duke. "Let us go have a drink whilst dinner is being prepared... Aramis, m'boy, would you care to join us?" Tom looked to Hermione who gave an expression of approval, so he followed them down the corridor to a study.

"C'mon," Hermione remarked. "We can head up to my room to talk."

"We'll see you at dinner, okay?" Mima instructed as she turned to Arthos who nodded and retreated outside.

Hermione felt that the stairs were just too much at that point and found herself slightly out of breath when she reached the top. The ride has been stiffening, so getting her body to move again was raising objections. She stretched a tad as Mima, who seemed just as energized as ever, walked gracefully beside her while still smiling broadly.

"What's with you?" Hermione asked as they came to her room and entered.

Mima became very excited looking; there was a glitter bursting in her eyes as her smile grew even larger. Once the door was shut, the Austrian Princess spun around in a circle and dropped onto the bed with a dreamy sigh.

"It's Arthos," she breathed languorously as she stared at the canopy of the bed.

"What about him?" the Gryffindor Head Girl asked as though she already knew the answer.

"He's... perfect," her companion answered as she laid her hands upon her chest in a lovestruck manner.

"And what makes him so perfect?"

"Well, while you were gone, I went back home for a few days," Mima explained, rolling over on the bed to lay on her stomach and watch Hermione who sat at the vanity. "But when I returned, I had expected you to be here, however, you weren't. So I decided to stay and wait for you, and I'm so very glad that I did."

Hermione smiled faintly at the look of pure glee on her new friend's face. Something was making her very happy, and it was rubbing off onto Hermione who found herself feeling relaxed and somewhat giddy as well. The mere look Mima wore and the spirit in her voice was enough to be contagious and infectious to anyone, no matter their mood.

"And?" Hermione urged.

"And it was so magical," Mima breathed. "We went to this university, and oh the books there. I was so enthralled by it. And when we returned that night, he had had the kitchen workers set up a candlelit dinner for us."

"How lovely," Hermione commented.

"But that's not the best of it," the other girl gushed. "The night after, we had went on a moonlit horseback ride. The next day he had packed up a lunch in a basket and took me into the country side."

"Sounds like you two are very in love," the pretend Anastasia noted.

"We are! I know we are!" Mima practically squealed in excitement. "I just know it because... well, he uh... he-"

"He what?" Hermione asked, feeling exhilaration rising in her own stomach. The anticipation of knowing what was making this girl in the room with her so happy was almost too much.

"He asked me to marry him!" Mima burst finally.

"Oh, Mima, that's wonderful! But what about-"

"About my family?" she finished for Hermione. "I've already written home to tell everyone of it. I believe I'll have their blessing."

"I'm so happy for you," Hermione grinned.

"I know... but anyway, what of your trip? You must tell me everything." With a nod, Hermione launched into story about the trip she had taken to the Duke and Duchess's castle and how she, too, was engaged to be married.

* * *

"I haven't seen the General anywhere, have you?" Hermione asked as she and Tom sat in the library later that night after dinner. 

"Neither have I," Riddle confessed. "I think he'll be out of our hair for a while."

"Maybe that means we can get back to work on getting back to the future," she thought aloud.

"I doubt that," he murmured. "The King pretty much has things scheduled out for us, and the schedule is packed tight."

"What d'you mean?"

"When I went into that study with the Duke and the King earlier today, Duke Rodden asked if the King was going to go through with the usual wedding celebration considering the streak of bad luck that's been surrounding the lot of us lately. Well, the King thought about it for a moment and said that he would not let his daughter be deprived of her right to a proper wedding and all its festivities."

"All its festivities?" Hermione repeated, sounding partly worried.

"Yes. Apparently there's to be a week-long carnival and a wedding ball of some sort three nights before the wedding. He said something about importing fireworks and all sorts of stuff. From what I understand, this is going to be a big affair," Tom explained.

"Oh no," she groaned, slouching back in her chair. She began rubbing her temples as he fiddled with a book that was upon the table. This was going to prove to be a bigger pain than she had thought. She had hoped that telling the King she would engage herself to Tom would put them at bay for a while, however, it only tossed them into more turmoil.

"Princess!" bellowed someone from the corridor.

"I think she's in here."

"There you are," Janessa spoke politely. "Come. We've readied your bath water." Hermione looked from her ladies in waiting to Tom who inhaled deeply and rose from his chair.

"I'll see you bright and early tomorrow then," he muttered. "The King's sending a wake-up call for us because we're to go into town to begin picking out material for the wedding uniforms."

"Good night," she sighed as she turned away from him and followed Mary and Janessa from the library.

* * *

She dropped down onto a bench inside a men's clothing boutique. Hermione was exhausted; partly because she hadn't slept too well and was awoken early and partly because they had been walking through town for the last four hours. She, the King, Tom, and a number of others had been to the bakers, who expressed many apologies to the King and Hermione for his son who still hadn't returned home, the butchers, the florists, and the jeweler's. The party had also been stopped dozens of times by commoners who wished to tell the King that they were glad he was back and in good health. Not to mention those who wanted to bless Hermione and Tom over their marriage, and she had a feeling that it was giving Riddle cold feet. However, she wasn't much better because she too was growing doubts. 

"I think that maybe we should just run away," he whispered as he dropped down on the bench beside her, throwing a look to the bay windows of the shop. Outside, the King was conversing with the town's smith as the man's four children ran about playing a game of tag.

"We can't do that. Running away from the problem won't help," she pointed out.

"It seemed to work terrifically for the real Anastasia and that baker's son," Tom reminded so that only she could hear.

"What works for one might not work for another," she argued as she watched the King laugh and pat the head of a boy who had been previously playing with the other three children.

"I really hope that we get out of here before he wants grandchildren."

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione mumbled with fearful thoughts of how birth would be. There were no medical advances that made birth any easier like an epidural or even labor inducers for that matter. Some women from this era were known to die during difficult births. '_That would be just my luck!_' she thought miserably. '_I'll die giving birth to the spawn of Tom Riddle._' She almost groaned as she put her face in her left hand and closed her eyes. Then another thought came to her mind. Birth might be bad, but how would the act that would enable her to carry a child be? She looked out of the corner of her eye at Riddle. He was handsome, and she had already seen him without clothes, or at least the backside of him. '_He did have a nice bottom._' Her eyes bugged out because of what she had just thought. '_Oh, dear Lord, no!_' she mentally whimpered. "Running away might not be such a bad idea after all," she murmured to him as the King entered the shop. "But where would we run to?"

"Bluffshire, I suppose," Tom answered in a soft spoken tone as the King bid hello to the shop owner and approached them.

"Aramis, son, let's get you measured for a suit," the older man beamed as he stopped before them, the shopkeeper in tow with an unrefined version of a seamstress's measuring tape hanging around his neck. Riddle stood as the King took to looking at rolled up pieces of fabric. Hermione remained in her seat and watched with half interest as the shop owner made Tom get up onto a stool so that he could measure him more easily. The stool wobbled, but Riddle kept his balancing as the clerk began making him pose like a stiff doll. First putting his arms parallel to the floor, then elongating his neck after which he had to stand up tall and straight, slightly pushing out his chest so that the shopkeeper could better measure his shoulders.

"I think I have a jacket in just your size," the clerk announced as he stood and replaced the measuring tape around his neck. "Just let me go fetch it." Tom stepped down from the stool and was headed for the bench were he had been sitting next to Hermione when the King spoke to him.

"Aramis, what color would you like your suit to be in?"

"Deep emerald," Riddle answered as he stopped and turned to the older man.

"That's hardly the color to wear to your wedding," the King remarked as he turned to look at more fabrics on an adjacent wall. "What about this gold material here?" Tom grimaced slightly. It reminded him of something a Gryffindor would wear, and though he had immense amounts of courage, he was no Gryffindor, but rather a Slytherin first, foremost, and forever.

"What about silver per chance?" the more youthful of the two suggested.

"But the royals have never worn anything but one of four colors for their weddings," the King supplied. "And that was either navy, gold, bronze, or crimson. Although Uncle Richard wore a deep violet to his own, however, I don't think that would suit you. So what do you say, m'boy?" Tom shrugged and looked to Hermione who sighed and sat up straight before addressing the matter.

"He wears red and navy for his military uniforms," she explained, "so those don't quite fit the situation. Bronze wouldn't look right on him, so we'll go with gold."

"Excellent, Ana," the King commended as the shop owner reentered the room from the back of the building.

"Here we are, son," the man said as he handed Riddle a light blue jacket. "Try this." Riddle slipped off his red uniform coat and put on the one he was just handed. He found it to be much stiffer in the collar and shoulders as he buttoned the silver fastenings.

"I say," the King commented, "I rather favor those fastenings. What do you say, Ana?"

"Silver and gold? I suppose that's as good as any. Gold on gold would be too much," she administered, wondering when she had become a fashion consultant.

"Yes, it would. Bronze wouldn't work yet again. So silver it is. In fact... now that I think about it, those were the colors of my own suit when the Queen and I wed."

"Is that what you desire then, your majesties?" the clerk inquired. "Golden fabric and sterling silver buttons?" The King nodded and the clerk continued, "What of the trousers?"

"Navy would be just fine," Tom mumbled, not wanting to wear any other color unless it were black, but as the King said, he had only four hues to choose from.

"Very well, sire," the man from the shop nodded. "I shall set to work on the uniform tonight and have my son and daughter deliver it to the castle in four days at the latest."

"Marvelous!" the King boomed happily. "Ana. Aramis. Come. Let's return home and see what news the Duke has for us. I left him to attend to this week's festivities." With that, the King exited the shop, Tom and Hermione in tow as they made their way back up to the castle.

* * *

By dinner time that night, things were beginning to look like a circus had arrived. Banners with the royal crest and colors hung upon every lamppost in town as well as the castle walls. Traveling bands of performers from nearby country villages had arrived and taken up residency in the town taverns and inns. Men stood blowing fire, swallowing swords, and juggling various fruits just outside the castle walls. Hermione had found it somewhat entertaining when they had first arrived earlier that day. She had stood in the garden of the castle grounds with Mary and Janessa to watch them preform, but now the hustle and bustle of those in the castle was too much for her. There seemed to be nowhere to go to get away from the noise. At every turn, someone was either cleaning tapestries, polishing wooden furniture, making plans with the King or Duke Rodden, or just rushing past to be in some other place.

Hermione huffed as she sat at dinner alone, her forehead resting on her right fist as she stared at her almost empty plate. The door to the dining hall opened and in stepped Tom who looked just as tired as she. He took a seat in one of the three remaining spaces and began piling food onto his plate. Neither spoke, for neither had the energy, and both were grateful for the silence they had finally found. The only sound that filled the room was the distant clink and clank of pots and pans from the kitchen and the sound of cutlery on a plate as Tom tucked into his food. He frowned as he chewed the meat. The food had gone cold and slightly dry in the time that it had sat upon the table.

"Where's the King?" Hermione questioned.

"Last I saw him, he was talking to some dirty-looking gypsy about a parade that's to happen two days before the actual wedding," Tom replied. She shook her head in part disgusted disbelief.

"This man is going to exhaust his family's fortune on a wedding for us, and I'm not even really his daughter," she whispered guiltily.

"That reminds me," Riddle stated as he finished chewing some cold cooked carrots. "I was thinking earlier today about something while we were discussing leaving here for Bluffshire." She nodded and sat back in her chair, looking at him with an expression that prompted his continuation of explaining that thought. "What if the real Aramis and Anastasia return?" he cued. "We've thought about it before, but we never really covered what we would do if they did. What if they, meaning the King and the others, discover us to be the fakes. It'll be pretty hard to work on getting back to the future from a jail cell or with a noose around our necks." He was right, and she knew it. They had to figure something out, and they needed to do so quickly. "I say we leave for Bluffshire in three nights."

"Why three nights? Should we really test that time? I mean, we're lucky that they haven't returned yet," Hermione pointed out.

"Because in three nights, the celebration will be under way with such force and rush, that it will be practically impossible for them to track us down immediately. It'll give us time to run, and it will make running easier. With all those people, we can slip out of town with hardly any trouble at all," Riddle justified.

Hermione half-heartedly nodded her agreement as she went back to staring at her plate from her slouched position in her seat. Things had become so amazingly chaotic that she was thankful once again that she wasn't in this time alone. What she was even more grateful for was the fact that Tom was so brilliant at times. She took to staring at him from the corner of her eye as he picked at some food on his plate. The longer she watched him, the more attached she felt herself getting. It was definitely posing a potential problem.

"I'm going up to bed," she finally sighed. "Who knows what they'll want us to do tomorrow."

"Watch and possibly judge an archery and fencing competition," Riddle muttered.

"For Merlin's sake," Hermione grumbled as she stood and threw her hands up before letting them fall to her sides. She left the room feeling more homesick than ever before.

* * *

With a dress that was far too uncomfortable for the heat of the early morning, and an annoyance at being woken at sunrise, Hermione sat on a raised stage in a meadow behind the castle near the stables. An archery field and fencing area had been set up, and a stage had been adorned with banners. Upon that stage with Hermione were Tom, Rodden, and the King. Below the stage, on a row of chairs in front of the wooden contraption, sat Mary, Janessa, Mima, Arthos, and Johnalin, who Hermione hadn't seen much of lately. 

A trumpeter sounded from the center of the field, drawing attention from the crowds and the stage to himself. Not lending the announcer his concentration, Riddle looked around in mild boredom. That's when he spotted something that alarmed him slightly. Squinting, he focused on the hedges of the castle. Something was shining brightly in the sun as it stuck out of them. And if he didn't know any better, he would say that it was a gun. Glancing to Hermione, he saw that she was trying to politely give her undivided attention to the trumpeter who was now bellowing loudly the rules and participants of the archery contest. Rising slowly, Tom caught her attention. At first, she let her gaze dart to the corner of her eye to watch him, but then she fully turned her head to watch him as he snapped his fingers to get the attention of one of the guards around the stage. But it would appear that he was far too late as the ear-splitting sound of a gun broke the air and the announcer's speech.

Screams from the crowd followed, and Riddle did the first thing he could think of. He grabbed Hermione, pushed her to the floor, and tried to cover her with his own body as he watched frantically. The Duke shoved the King to the floor, both unharmed as people began scrambling for the safety of the back of the stage or running towards the stables and the woods. Another shot was fired as the guards took off for the castle, Tom directing them that whoever it was had been in the hedges. Straining his eyes to see through the panicked crowd, Riddle saw something that angered him more than anything. It was the General, and he was now mounted onto one of the castle's horses. He fired his gun into the air and then again at a guard, taking the man out. Laughing manically, he shouted to the King.

"A daughter for a son! Not quite a fair trade, but you took my only child, so I'm taking yours!" Mardon fired again at the stage, putting a hole in one of the banners that hung around them. Tom sat up as soldiers on horseback came riding towards the General who willed his horse into a fast gallop for the forest.

Pulling Hermione into a sitting position, Riddle saw fear etched across her face and terror in every recess of her chocolate eyes. Following her stare, he feared for her as well. The chair that she had been sitting upon had a hole larger than his fist in the exact spot where her head had been. Drawing her close, he squeezed her tightly and gently caressed her back as she shook and became void of color. If Mardon wanted to play this game, Tom would as well.

"Arthos," he spoke steadily and heatedly. "Bring two horses and two firearms down here quickly as you possibly can before the chase for Mardon gets too much farther away."


	36. Till Death Do You Part

**A/N:** Wow! Updating a little bit faster than I have been as of recent, although this is a day shy of the time that I thought I would be updating. Crazy internet and I had a bit of a dispute, so that's to be expected.. Anyways, I'm updating with a nice long chapter! Hoping everyone will enjoy this one because it finally delivers something - or part of something - that most everyone has been asking for. Pray that y'all think it's just, lol. Anyways, now it's time for the many thanks to my lovely, wonderful reviewers before I let you go on to read. Thank ya to: _Hater-of-heartless-critics, DeceptiveFates, Gueneviere, xXxTom4everxXx, Autumn's-Smile, Silver Tears 11, KoolAidNightmare, Charming-Lynn, libaka, LandUnderWave, PhanPhic-adict, Malfoys girl 01, emeraldice77, marauder'sbabe, fatcakes, Alana84, CartoonOni, _and _SweetChaosandRevenge._ Now, onto the chapter...

* * *

**Chapter 36 – Till Death Do You Part**

"Where are you going?" Hermione yelled as Tom mounted a horse hastily and took the reins that were handed to him by Arthos.

"I've got something to take care of," Tom replied angrily as he turned the horse towards the woods where the General and the others had disappeared. Riddle looked to Arthos who mounted his own horse and nodded his ready to his companion.

"This is madness!" Hermione tried to point out as Arthos began to turn his horse in the proper direction. "You're going after some madman on a horse with a gun. This isn't going to turn out good. You tested fate once with Porthos, don't do it again." When Tom only adjusted his feet in the stirrups and made sure that his sword was secure on his belt, she turned to the King. "Father! Reason with him," she pleaded as she thrust a finger in her future husband's direction.

"Aramis," the King began, "please. She's right. We can't have you risking your life. Especially not so close to the wedding. What if something were to happen?"

"My apologies, your majesty," Tom stated stiffly. "But I feel that this is something I must do." With that, Riddle snapped the reins, and the horse reared a bit before digging its back hooves into the ground and leaping forward into a gallop. Arthos followed, much to Mima's sadness. She turned to Hermione who turned and ran for the stables. By the time she reached them, she was breathing roughly after dodging through the haphazard meadow with its frantic and upset people. Putting on a burst of force, she passing the last of them and entered the stables. Things were desolate and messy. Soldiers had left stuff chaotic in their hurry to grab a horse and leave. There were no sounds of neighing horses or stamping hooves.

Hermione wandered speedily down through the center of the building, peering in stall after stall in hopes of seeing a forgotten horse, but she had no such luck. She had ran into one or two frightened children hiding in the wooden compartments where the horses were made to rest, but that had been it. Turning on her heel, she paused a moment and thought frantically about where she could find a horse. She needed to pursue Tom to ensure his safety just as she had with the pistol duel. Running out of the stable, she intended to go into town, but was stopped by the sight of Mima, the King, and the Duke coming around across the meadow and through the crowd, which was started to disburse, followed by Mary, Janessa, and some guards.

"Take to the entrance of the castle," the King commanded. "I will let no one in and no one out until I'm certain that this mutinous _General_ is caught." The tone with which he stated Mardon's rank was full of distaste, and frankly, Hermione had never seen the King look so serious and angry, not even on the day she had first arrived at the castle. "Ana, get inside with Mima and your ladies in waiting. I don't want to see you anywhere near any windows, doors, or the outside until Aramis returns with news of Mardon's demise."

"But, Father, I need to-"

"Now, Ana, no arguments," the King ordered sternly, unwaivering in Hermione's protest.

Mima approached her, grabbed her by the elbow gently, and led her up to the castle and inside.

"It's best to just listen," Mima whispered as they ascended the steps to the front doors. "I'm sure that they'll return. It's a cavalry against one man. Certainly they can't be outdone."

* * *

"I don't see them anywhere, Aramis!" Arthos bellowed as he galloped forward on his horse. He and Tom were in the middle of the forest, lost from the chase for the despicable man who called himself a general. "They can't have gotten far," Arthos continued. "The woods thicken to the left and to the right is the countryside. Ahead lies the cliffs." 

"Then we'll go to the right. He most likely wouldn't have headed for a dead end in the cliffs and definitely not to the left where he faced getting slowed and caught." Turning their horses, Riddle and his riding partner headed to the east. They rode for what felt like forever, Tom willing his horse to quicken the pace because he felt that they were falling too far behind. Once they emerged from the woods and saw that it was near sundown, they galloped on even more hastily through a field. Finally, the road came into sight and a little further down it was the familiar building that Tom knew to be the University, and from what he could see, chaos had ran through there. "This way," the once future Dark Lord commanded as he headed for the University.

His horse trotted past the open gates to the inside. Dismounting from his steed, he looked around to see that someone had been through there. Hoof prints were stamped in a helter-skelter manner across the dirt floor inside the walls that surrounded the library, church, and other buildings of the University. As he stared at the marks, trying to figure out which way the group had went, Tom noticed a dark substance had stained the ground. Crouching, he examined it, touching his fingers lightly to it. Liquid. It was cool, and when Tom raised his fingers to inspect them, he saw that it was bright, vivid red. Blood. But who did it belong to?

"Look. It trails off to that building over there," Arthos informed as he noticed the mock Aramis staring at the dark spots on the ground.

They headed to the building. Tom could tell that this was the church, but the room that they entered was more for personal worship and confession than a mass gathering of worshipers. Upon a table was one of the monks. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth and was wiped away immediately by one of the surrounding monks, all of whom looked solemn. Riddle and Arthos had gained their attention when they entered, their shadows long and slender in the fading sun. It was an odd sight really. The shadows fell strangely around the room, looking like the embodiment of the Grim Reaper himself. The monks turned and stared, fear in some of their eyes and sadness in others.

"Who did this?" Arthos inquired sympathetically.

"And where did they go?" Riddle added, his tone urgent.

The monks looked at one another for a second before one stepped forward and pointed to Arthos and Tom's uniforms. He then motioned to his own chest and made a sign as though to say he wore a badge of honor there.

"The General," Tom spoke hurriedly, not understanding why this man wasn't talking as the one who had stopped him before when Riddle first came to the University. That monk had made it verbally clear that no weapons could be brought into the University, but now no one was making a sound. However, Tom soon forgot his questions when the monk nodded and stepped past Arthos and himself to the outside as the dying man on the table gasped and sputtered some of his last breaths. A deep buzzing could be heard, making Tom glance back into the room. That's when he realized that this dying monk was of a high rank and the same who had stopped him the first day at the gate. He wore a medal upon his neck in proof, and it appeared that the other monks were trying to honor his final moments by humming a hymn to ease his pain and worry.

Shaking his head, Riddle left and ran towards the gate where Arthos was with the other monk. The robed man pointed southward. This meant that the General and his pursuers had headed back towards the town. Grabbing their horses, Tom and Arthos mounted and rode away rapidly. If they hurried, they might catch up before the pursuit for Mardon got any further away. But this wasn't the least of Tom's worries. He feared that the General might try to return to the castle and make another attempt to kill Hermione.

* * *

She paced her room as Mima dozed on the bed. Mary and Janessa had brought them dinner, but Hermione had only picked over a dinner roll and a piece of ham before getting frustrated with the idea of her sitting there while Tom was out possibly in danger. 

Hermione walked to the balcony and stared out at the horizon. She hoped to see Tom and Arthos emerging from the forest, but for the many times that she prayed for it, nothing seemed to be answering her yet. No one came riding forth on a steed from the black chasm of thewoods, and no one came knocking on her bedroom door to bring news of their return. Bowing her head, she turned slowly away from the darkening scene before her. She walked into her room and felt exhausted as she heard Mima shift in the bed. Dropping down onto the seat in front of her vanity, Hermione stared at her reflection. She became entranced with what she saw there. She hardly recognized the person staring back with bloodshot, distant, and weathered eyes that were hazed over. They had lost their original luster that spoke of innocence, determination, and spirit. Was she still the same person? Looking to her lap, she shook her head solemnly. That once slightly shy and boisterous know-it-all had been forever changed.

Hermione raised her hands and stared at them for a moment, turning them over and over slowly as she gazed at the lines on her palms and the smoothness of the pale skin on the back of her hands. They once used to be worn and marked from various potion ingredients and lack of primping care. Now they seemed dainty and unlike her own. She sighed and watched them reach out for the brush on the vanity. Stopping as her fingertips came in contact with the cool metal of the handle, she looked back up to the mirror before her as a low, ulterior rumble reached her ears. This place, this time. It had beaten her down, and she was actually starting to fall into the role of the girl that they assumed her to be.

"It's what I had to do," she whispered to herself, almost too quietly for even her own ears to hear as another rumble of thunder sounded.

Her attention was drawn to the door of the balcony, the panes of glass rattling as the door knocked back against the wall with the breeze that flowed into the room. Cotton-like, gray clouds had covered the sky and the first stars which had dotted its once orangish pink expanse. Eyes narrowing, she focused as the first few drops of rain fell to the stone of the balcony, followed by the steady, light drizzle. Hermione's attention was turned once more as someone knocked softly upon her bedroom door. It opened soundlessly and in stepped her ladies in waiting.

"Princess, you really shouldn't have the door open in such weather. You could catch your death that way," Janessa scolded in a concerned manner.

"And you didn't eat," Mary added. "Are you ill?"

"I'm just not hungry," Hermione mumbled sedatedly.

"Why don't you lie down and rest?" Mary suggested as she gathered the tray in which Mima and Hermione's dinner had been brought in upon. "It'll do you some good. You look positively consumed."

"I can't sleep," the Gryffindor girl replied. "At least not until I'm sure that Aramis has returned safely." At this, Janessa and Mary exchanged saddened glances.

"Would you feel any better if I removed the braid from your hair and brushed it?" Janessa offered.

"No thank you."

"We'll prepare a bath, then," the young lady continued. "That should ease your tensions a bit. It's not good for you to be so worried. It'll make you ill."

Hermione sighed. She hated the way that they thought that everything she did or wanted to do would make her sick. Giving no objections to the preparation of some bath water, she watched in the mirror as Janessa laid a blanket over the sleeping figure that was Mima before exiting the room behind Mary. Rubbing her face in irritation, Hermione glanced once more at her reflection.

She wasn't one to sit by idly like this, and it was driving her mad. She needed to know where Tom was and if he was well, or else she would burst. Getting up with a grunt of frustration, Hermione let her feet carry her to the one place where she could find some solitude and peace.  
Looking about her surroundings of dusty book stacks and worn wooden shelves, she felt something she wasn't used to feeling while in the library. Emptiness. Her shadow flickered in the wane light of some candles on a candelabra. Seeing that only made her feel even more lonely because it let her eyes witness first hand that Tom wasn't there with her. Feeling that she would find no comfort in the silence of the volumes around her, she turned and left. Her destination was unknown to her as she walked aimlessly, though she hoped to lose the loneliness that surrounded her somewhere along her wanderings.

* * *

Finally reaching the town, Tom and Arthos saw frightened faces peering through the dimly lit windows of homes and establishments. 

"You there!" Riddle bellowed as he pointed to a man outside a tavern. "Did you see any soldiers or the General pass through here?"

"They went through only a moment ago," a man spoke up from the other direction. Tom turned in his saddle and looked down upon a man with a painted face, or what used to be painted. The light drizzle that had set in had started to wash away the meager, crude paint as it soaked through the performer's clothing.

"Which way?" Tom demanded.

"They rode through the town before heading to our camp just off the eastern outskirts. That man they were all chasing terrorized a few of our jugglers. Injured one and-"

"Which way did they go?" Riddle growled as he reached down and snatched the man up by the front of his costume, his eyes fierce as they bore into the fearful, widened ones of the jester.

"Th-they went on s-s-southward before-re c-circling b-back and v-veer-ing to the woods o-on the we-we-west," the clown-like man stuttered.

Tom released him and drilled his heels into the sides of his horse. With a whinny and a toss of its head, the steed stamped its feet before taking off into a gallop down the center of the cobblestone street. Its hoof beats echoed fourfold by the sound of the horse that Arthos rode closely behind Tom. They passed the castle, Riddle's thoughts trailing momentarily to Hermione, whom he hoped was safe and well within the safety of the castle walls as he and his companion rode once more into the forest. They were getting close; he could feel it.

* * *

Looking about the desolate, circular room in which she stood, Hermione recalled her first visit there. The shock that she had experienced upon discovering Megalise Christian rolled over her in faint waves. Hermione was in the tower room where she had first met the other witch. Feeling a hopelessness rise in her chest at the realization of Meg's absence and Tom's as well, the young Gryffindor witch turned and left the room. She descended the stairs of the tower and kept going until she was in the entrance hall. Wandering along, she spotted a door that gave her the slightest inkling of warmth with its carvings and oddly shaped handle. Entering, she frowned. Where were the butterflies? No nearly weightless insects with beautiful wings fluttered about the large cage. None that she could see anyways. 

Entering the enclosure, she sighed a bit as a few took flight when her skirt folds brushed one of the bushes, but there weren't as many as there normally were. Looking about, she noticed something odd clinging to the walls of the garden coop and branches and stems of plants and bushes. Cocoons. And as she looked interestedly at the tiny casings, momentarily distracted by their unusual forms, she caught sight of something. In the corner behind a pruned rose shrubbery was a wooden bucket; something one would use when scrubbing floors. But what filled the container certainly wasn't water or scrub brushes. Colors, though fading and motionless, mingled within the depth of the arboreous pail. Butterflies. Deadened ones.

Rising from her bent examination of a rather prominent cocoon, she approached the hidden vessel. Bending down, she reached forward a hand and touched the wing of a blue and black one. She half expected it to flinch and take flight, but it never did. The color was not as vibrant as she thought it should have been, and as she stared, she noticed that a black powder had been brushed onto the blue of the wing. Looking to her fingers, her eyes met the source of the smudging culprit. The powder that was mingled with the blue of the winds was dusted on the ends of her fingertips as well, and once more, she was lost in scrutiny of her hands. She wished then, as she inspected the underside of her digits and the intricate and delicate lines of her hand, that she had paid attention in Divinations. Maybe then she would know a little more about palm readings and that would allow her to access the future. It might even give her insight on what to expect and if she could anticipate Tom's secure return.

* * *

"Look there!" Arthos yelled from behind Riddle as they raced through the forest. Tom strained his eyes to see through the darkness as water ran down his face and into his eyes, blurring his vision. However, he was able to catch a glimpse of the end of the chase party that was pursuing Mardon. They were almost upon them. 

"Quick! This way!" he commanded to Arthos. They veered right, Tom knowing full well what was ahead as they splashed through a stream. He and Hermione had crossed that same small body of slowly flowing water before just after witnessing the death of their fellow witch, Meg. The drizzle began to permeate the canopy of the trees around them. They were nearing the end of the woods and would soon be upon the rocky crags of Siren Hollow Cliffs.

Tom leaned forward as the sound of pounding hooves reached his ears from the left. He and Arthos were right beside the pursuit now, and the two parties would soon be atop each other. The edge of the forest was in sight. Bracing his feet in the stirrups, Riddle was prepared for his horse to run through the brush, but instead, it leaped the leafy bramble. He remained in the saddle, though a little shaken. Nevertheless, he recovered quickly and drew his sword as the General and his chasers came into sight finally. Fire burst in Tom as he saw the madman who tried to claim Hermione's life riding ahead of all the soldiers freely with his face contorted into a maniacal grin as he willed his mare onward. Urging his own stallion to put on a burst of speed, Tom found himself gaining on Mardon who glanced back wearily as they raced along the edge of the drop-off.

"You can't catch me, boy!" the General laughed loudly with an insane tone. He snapped the reins, and his horse went ever faster, pulling ahead of Tom who had almost been beside the older man. Making his steed get closer, Riddle swiped his sword, cutting into the General's back and leaving a gash on the hindquarters of Mardon's horse. The mare neighed furiously in protest, slamming its hooves into the tender, wet ground as it stopped in pain. It reared in fear, tossing the madman from its saddle before stamping and taking off along the edge of the cliff. Mardon clambered to his feet in the mud as lightning lit up the sky. Tom was a few feet ahead of him, slowing his own horse to a stop before turning back towards the General who drew his weapon. "Even if you did manage to throw me from my horse," he yelled somewhat breathlessly, "you'll never capture me!"

Nonetheless, the General's words didn't seem too sincere as the party who had been chasing him began to surround where he was standing. Riddle's horse trotted triumphantly forward to the center of the circle of soldiers where Mardon stood panting and poised for combat.

"Odd," Tom began as he dismounted from his horse and sent it away from where the two stood with a slap on its hindquarters. "That you, who killed an innocent on these very crags, should find your end here as well." The words made him sound valiant and righteous, something he had never expected to be let alone think about saying something to make him so.

"The only one who will be meeting their end here is you, you insolent excuse for a soldier and a man," Mardon yelled as thunder rolled through the darkened sky above.

Each soldier stayed put upon their steed as the General and Tom began to circle each other. It was almost like a judgment day trial of wild animals. The scene emanated masculinity and adrenaline as the drizzle thickened and finally began to soak the heavy uniforms of the men there.

"Give up, old man," Tom called from across the encircled area as he and the General continued their lion-like sizing up pace.

"Why? I could easily defeat you!" the General bellowed back. "I will not fail where my son did. I will come out victorious!"

"The only victory you'll see it when I run my sword through your black heart!" It was a phrase that Tom had expected to hear from an adversary of his own like Potter, but now here he was saying it to another. Strange the turn of events that had occurred.

"Bah!" Mardon roared as he rushed forward, and the clash of metal on metal filled the air. Blow after blow, strike after strike, the two battled things out. At first, it would appear that Tom had the upper hand. He was faster and more agile than the aged men he was dueling, but as time wore on, Riddle began to slow. His sword was becoming heavy, and despite age, Mardon had some power behind his attacks which made Tom's arms buckle a bit when he blocked them. "Tiring, boy?" Mardon growled as he and Tom locked glares and swords for a moment.

"Not in the least!" the younger of the two retaliated as he ripped his sword from the entanglement with a grinding of sharp metal blade on sharp metal blade. This taunt made him put on a burst of speed, and he lunged at the older man, slicing at his shoulder. The General managed to block, and as Riddle stumbled past, Mardon whipped around and made a quick, slicing attack of his own.

An anguished groan filled the thick air around them as Tom winced and cringed. the General's sword had cut through the thick material of his uniform and left its mark in the younger male's back. Sweat mixed with rain stung at the wound as the once future Dark Lord painfully flexed the muscles of his back while turning to face his attacker. Blood, warm on his cold, wet skin began to trickle down and soak his already drenched jacket.

"You'll pay dearly for that," Riddle uttered angrily as he gripped his sword tighter and concentrated even harder on injuring Mardon fatally.

With a laugh, the General stabbed forward with his dripping weapon, but that proved to be a mistake as Tom's sword clashed against it. This knocked Mardon's blade aside, and in the second that he was left vulnerable, Riddle spun quickly forward and slashed through the older man's thigh. A scream of agony filled the air as the more aged of the two dropped to his knees before laying down flat and rolling out of the way just in time to miss the descending blade of his opponent. Tom grunted furiously as he stabbed the earth while Mardon staggered to his feet, panting heavily as he wiped mud from his face.

"Is that the best you've got?" he taunted as he limped to the right and away from Riddle who had pulled his brand tempestuously from the ground, flinging mud, dirt, grass, and rain from the tip.

"Not quite!" A fury of blows followed these words as the two came dangerously close to the encircling soldiers who scattered back a good five to ten feet. The harder and longer they fought, the more each blow showed their wear, but neither would give in before taking the next strike at their opponent. With each passing second, they came ever nearer to the rockier part of the area, making it tenfold the peril. Their muddy boots. The slick grass. Sharp, protruding rocks partly covered in slippery moss. Each thing seemed to reach up and grab at the ankles of the combatants, trying to make them slip and live their final moment in slow motion fear while their adversary brought their weapon down in a death dealing blow.

"You're slowing!" Mardon barked as he swung his sword out before him, trying to lash Tom's abdomen. He was trying to get into Riddle's head, and the younger man knew it, but he wouldn't let him.

"No, I think it's you who is!" Tom argued as he got in two swipes, cutting the General's sleeve, but no flesh.

"You should have just tended to your own business, Aramis! You should have stayed out of the way and let my son marry the Princess! You could have had a good life even then. But no! You had to take the glory and the throne all for yourself! You could have been general or second ranking once my son was king and I retired from my post!"

"Lies!" Tom roared, bringing his sword down in a powerful, overhead stroke. "I would never help you to take the throne and bring harm to the Princess or the current king!"

"Oh, but I recall a time when you would have followed me! You and dozens of the fools who surround us!"

"Not now. They see that you're losing, and who wants to follow that?" Riddle fought, angering Mardon enough that the older man was caught off guard. The tip of Tom's sword pierced Mardon's right shoulder just so, causing him to bellow his pain and retaliation. He backed away, removing the younger's sword from his flesh. Grabbing at the wound, the General yelled before going into a furious series of swipes, cuts, and jabs. Tom was quick though, jumping back and maneuvering with the flexibility of a cat, missing each attack. But his luck ran out, and he slipped on a rock. He tried to regain balance, but Mardon stabbed forward, and as Tom dodged, he fully lost control of what little equilibrium he had.

Riddle hit the ground hard, his left shoulder blade slamming excruciatingly into a rather hard stone. He winced and lost grip on his weapon, his ears pounding with the sound of his rushing blood. His eyes shot open, trying to find his adversary, but he was blinded by the rainfall. Trying to blink it away, he groped the ground to his right frantically for the handle of his blade.

"Aramis!" yelled Arthos who quickly dismounted from his steed and drew his sword, stumbling as he hit the ground and slipped a little.

"A pity and a shame that you won't get to see your bride walk down the aisle. Oh well... till death do you part," Mardon said in a deep, intimidating voice as Arthos rushed forward, slipping again on the mossy stones.

"Aramis!" the young soldier yelled again, knowing that he wouldn't reach his friend in time to stop Mardon who was bring his weapon down upon Tom as he was still trying to see and find his own sword. Unsure of just what to do, Arthos threw his sword, hoping it would hit and stop his companion's attacker, but it missed. It sailed past the older man and out over the cliffs as it dropped to the crashing water below.

"Ha!" Mardon boomed as he paused just short of striking Tom. "Fool," he added before turning back to Riddle and lifting his sword again. "Ready to die, boy?" the General laughed madly as his blade descended once more.

"No!" Tom yelled as he brought his arm up, rock in hand and smashed it into the knee of the General who dropped instantly to the ground with a grunt of protest. His sword, however, had stabbed through Riddle's forearm, making him scream in torturous suffering. Reaching up, he gripped the handle tight and pulled as hard as he could, only dislodging it partly. This sent a shot of pain through his throbbing arm, and he grit his teeth as he yanked again, finally freeing the brand. He sat up, only to have the newly acquired weapon ripped from his hand by a huffing Mardon who shoved Tom back to the ground.

"Impudent little bastard!" the General roared as he staggered to his feet while Riddle rolled away, finally finding his own blade as he clambered to his feet and shook away the rain that was partially blinding him.

"Aramis! Can you make it?" Arthos bellowed.

Tom ignored him and leaped toward Mardon who backed away, getting hazardously closer to the edge of the drop-off.

"I told you, I will not be the one to lose and die!" Riddle growled forcefully as he swung his sword, trying to ignore the exhaustion and pain he was being tormented by.

"You've met your end. Face it!"

"You face it!" Tom shouted, knocking Mardon's sword aside as it sailed at him. "As you said to me," he continued while he stepped forward emphatically. He drilled down blows on the older man in a quick paced fashion so that the older man teetered on the edge of the crags. "Till death do you part!" With that, Riddle rained down such an assertive force with his weapon that it made the General stumble and slip upon the slick, wet boulder on which he stood. Mardon let out a terrified cry as he fell backwards, knowing that there was no ground beneath him on which to fall, but only the enormous, knife-like boulders below in the pounding waves. If the fall alone and the unforgiving rocks below didn't kill him, the waves surely would overtake him and beat him mercilessly off the cliff wall until he went unconscious and drown.

Tom looked over the edge, Arthos rushing forward to see as well, but all they saw was the white foam of a wave which burst on the cliffs before disappearing back into the ocean. They searched the waters for a moment, but saw even less as fog began to drift in. However, even if they didn't see the General die, they knew he was surely gone with no hopes of return. A just death had certainly parted him from this world.


	37. Rodmilla's Wedding Gift

**A/N:** Real quick few thank-you's, and we'll get on with the chapter. Thanks to: _Gueneviere, Emerald-Eyed Phoenix, DeceptiveFates, Alana84, Hater-of-heartless-critics, fatcakes, marauder'sbabe, Charming-Lynn, The daughter of Slytherin, Seed-of-Flame, nehimasgift, _and _AppaAndMomoForever._

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**Chapter 37 – Rodmilla's Wedding Gift**

Hermione paced the sun room, her worry starting to make her go stir crazy as she felt like a prisoner from whom they were keeping information. What was taking Tom so long? Was he all right? Had they caught the General? Thoughts bounced about in her head a million at a time, all buzzing hundreds of miles a minute. She started to feel sick at her stomach from all the worry and not knowing. Her head throbbed and felt as though it were spinning. She leaned against the piano in the room for a moment before taking a seat on the bench before it. Hermione stared at the white and black keys. Something flickered on them; something orange. She looked around and noticed that it was light cast from outside. Jumping up, she ran to the window, but couldn't see much as rain washed down the window pane in thick, unbroken sheets of water. Grabbing at the folds of her skirt, she picked up the hem off the floor and took to running. She burst out into the corridor, the echo of her feet on the floor barely more than the sound of a pin drop as she rushed along with them hardly touching the marble. She reached the door, wrenched it open and saw the source of the light.

Her heart sank. It was nothing more than a servant of the castle, dressed in clothes much too big for him that was meant to keep out the downpour. He had a small torch on a long handle, and he was standing under a beaten, patched umbrella. He looked up to Hermione, nodded deeply, and went about lighting the lanterns outside. Sighing heavily, she made to turn, but stopped. Her ears pricked at the sound of something. Eyes wide and searching the outside, she watched the gate to the castle open. Her breath caught in her throat as horses with soaked, uniformed riders came into view. She walked to the edge of the first step, the toes of her shoes getting soaked instantly as she stood there looking on mindlessly, waiting on some sign of good. Was Tom with them?

Three young boys, more servants of the castle, came running past Hermione and out went splashing out into the rain as soldiers began dismounting from their steeds. The boys grabbed two horses each and began taking them to the stables out back of the castle as the soldiers headed for their quarters just off the castle grounds. But where was Tom?

Hermione stepped down to the next step, the rain beginning to drench the front of her dress and her face as she looked carefully at each soldier who passed. She knew none of them. Arthos wasn't even among them. Where were they? She felt a constricting feeling growing in her chest, pushing a lump up into her throat that almost choked her. Refusing to give up, she returned her attention back to the gate, and as she did, her eyes spotted something. Among the legs of the horses were six legs of men. Could one of them be Tom? She soon got her answer when a stable boy pulled two horses away, clearing her view to the men. One was Arthos, another a soldier she didn't know, and the last, much to her relief, was Riddle. Before she knew it, she was splashing through the puddles, mud splattering her dress as she raced towards him.

He turned just in time to catch her as she threw herself at him. She buried her face in his neck after wrapping her arms around it. He was a bit taken aback by her sudden appearance and attack of him, but his surprise melted quickly away to confusion as he felt her hot tears rolling down his neck and soaking, if at all possible, into his wet uniform jacket.

"What's that matter?" he half yelled so she could hear him through the rain and her sobs as he pried her away from him enough to look her in the eye. However, she didn't answer him the way he expected her to. Instead, she pressed her lips firmly, almost forceful enough to leave a bruise, against his. Keeping one arm fast around his neck, she let her other hand wander up to the back of his head and tangle her fingers into his sopping, jet black hair.

She lost track of everything in that moment. Forgetting that Arthos and the other soldier were still standing there a little awkwardly. Not caring that the rain was freezing and saturating her clothing, hair, and skin. And not giving any concentration to the fact that they hadn't established where Mardon was. All that mattered to her was that he was back because she had realized, while sitting in the sun room and awaiting his return, that he was all she had. She vowed then that she wouldn't let him go. Ever.

Slowly, sensation started to return to her. First was the realization that she was shivering. Then came the recognition of a weakness in her knees. It was after that that she felt Tom's arms had snaked around her lower back in support, and his lips were still brushing against hers in a gentler, but still tender and passionate kiss. Rain was rolling down her face like tiny fingertips tracing every curve and feature of her structure. Her dress had become heavier and hung uncomfortably on her as it stuck in places when she moved or where Tom touched her.

He pulled away and pushed back some strands of hair from her face. She smiled, blinking the rain droplets from her eyelashes. She had never thought he would be capable of showing his affections for her so openly where anyone could see let alone show affection toward her at all.

"We had better get inside," he spoke loudly over the falling rain and thunder. She nodded and held out her hand, waiting for him to take it into his own. He did just that, lacing her fingers into his and leading her back into the castle.

"Ana!" the King aspirated as he came to a halt in the entrance hall and saw Hermione who was soaked to the bone. "Get her a towel," he instructed one of the maids who gave a quick, curt nod and rushed off. "Well? Where is he?" the King continued as he looked to Tom now.

"Dead, sir," Riddle replied in a serious, stern fashion. Hermione's gaze shot to the young man next to her. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye to see her eyes were large and questioning. "I fought him," Tom proceeded. "He fell over Siren Hollow Cliffs to his death."

"He was quite gallant," spoke up Arthos from behind them. He offered a nod to the King and Hermione and looked to Tom. "He fought bravely, and in the end, the better man won."

Hermione threw her arms around Riddle, squeezing him tight. That's when she noticed the tear in the back of his jacket. Releasing him just as suddenly as she had embraced him, she made him turn around. Gasping, she clapped her hands over her mouth.

"You're wounded, son," the Duke informed needlessly as he and Mima entered the hall.

"Arthos!" the Austrian Princess breathed. "Are you well? You aren't wounded as well, are you?"

"No. Aramis was the only one who fought Mardon," he answered, giving her a sly wink afterwards.

The maid who had been sent by the King returned now, handing Hermione and Tom a towel each. She looked to Arthos apologetically, and he simply shook his head with a polite smile, declining her silent offer to go and fetch him a towel as well.

"Get Aramis to his quarters and see to it that those wounds are properly dressed," the King directed.

"Right away, your majesty," the woman responded, looking to Riddle to follow her.

Sticking with Tom, Hermione walked along beside him with her hand in his. She would be the one to see to it that the King's orders were rightly followed. With magic, she would heal him, or at least get as near to healing him as she could. They entered his room after the short walk down the hall, up the stairs, and down another hall. Hermione pulled up a chair next to the bed where Riddle had sat down to remove his boots.

"Don't. Let me," she demanded caringly. "You shouldn't stretch or strain your back until it's been attended to." Sighing defeatedly, for he knew not to put up a fight, Tom sat up straight as Hermione pulled his boot off.

"Just wait here, and I'll go get the nurse," the woman who had led them to the room said while walking to the door. "Would you like me to send for your ladies in waiting, Princess? You really should get out of those cold, wet clothes and into a warm bath."

"I'll be fine for now," Hermione answered while putting Tom's boots aside. "I'd like to wait here with Aramis."

"I'll still fetch them. We're going to prepare a bath for Aramis as well, so you might as well have one too," the maid informed before leaving.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. She wasn't a child. Her body could handle a little bit of rain. She shrugged it off and pushed the thought from her mind though as she turned to Riddle and began inquiring about Mardon.

"What happened? You have to tell me everything."

"Everything?" Tom repeated with a smirk. His manner was cocky, and she knew right away that this retelling of the story, even if it was the truth, would feed his already over-sized ego.

"Yes, everything," she mumbled in exasperation.

"Well," Riddle exhaled, dawning an expression that said he was recalling the event in great detail. "After I chased down Mardon and those fools who were doing no good at capturing or stopping him, we began dueling at the cliffs." Hermione listened intently, although she thought that it was indeed convenient how he had left out that Arthos had also chased down the General. Not to mention how he made it sound as though he were the heroed white knight of the tale. "He only thought that he had had me," Tom continued as he told about his 'brief' moment of weakness. "But I managed to battle my way back up and push him to the edge of the cliff. Just as he was about to strike, I put on such a show of force and magnitude that the mere blow was enough to knock him off his feet and over the cliff."

"Even though your retelling of things might have been a bit exaggerated, you're clearly the hero here," Hermione chortled softly after a moment's pause followed his story.

"It wasn't exaggerated!" Riddle snapped.

"Fine," she sighed, still with a hint of amusement in her tone. "But it's an odd thought though, isn't it?"

"What?"

"You. The hero."

"Why is that such an _odd_ thought?" Tom grouched.

"Well, just think about it. You're the hero. The good guy now. A bit ironic, don't you think? I mean, in the future, you were the evil of our reality," Hermione pointed out.

"What's your point, Granger?" he barked. "I could just as easily be the evil here as well. I just find it easier to rise to power this way. And besides... I couldn't very well have Mardon around looking more powerful or dark than I, now could I?"

"Whatever you say," she breathed half-distractedly. "I just wonder if we can get back to concentrating on returning to the future after this wedding."

"Probably," Tom said as he stood and began removing his jacket. He grunted in momentary pain as the skin of his back stretched and the muscles moved.

"Let me help you," she volunteered, rising from her chair and grabbing the collar of his jacket. She pulled it carefully from his arms and back, watching the side of his face as it scrunched in discomfort. Hermione grimaced when the jacket was fully removed. More than half of the back of the white undershirt he wore was stained a deep crimson from his blood. "You'll have to take that off, too," Hermione apprised as she tossed the ruined, dripping coat aside. Reaching out, she grabbed the sides of his shirt, just above his hips and pulled, untucking the garment. The corners of her mouth turned even further downward as the skin of his back became exposed. She stood staring at the gash that ran across his once flawless skin while he pulled the shirt the rest of the way over his head. He threw it aside and tried to look over each shoulder to see the mark, but couldn't quite maneuver far enough.

"Is it bad?" he asked.

"I'm sure that once it's been cleaned and bandaged and had time to heal, it'll look fine," Hermione replied as she watched fresh blood from the huge cut trickle slowly down his back next to the dip where his spine was. "You should probably sit back down. You've more than likely lost a good deal of blood," she administered.

"I feel all right though," he shrugged. "I think the rain kept it pretty well flushed, and the jacket stuck in one place most of the time that we were riding back, so that acted as a makeshift bandage."

"All the same," she muttered, "I'd prefer if you would sit and rest until they come to get you for your bath. There's no sense in testing your endurance after something like that."

"I thought you said that I exaggerated?" Tom teased as he turned to face her.

"You-," she began to retaliate, but saw another cut on his forearm and abdomen. "You've got more wounds than we thought."

"Like I said, I'm well enough," he replied as though he were uncaring of his minor scrapes.

"No one - I don't care who they are - could be as well as you say you are," she hissed, getting a little upset with his tough facade.

"I'm not one of those stupid Muggles, Hermione," Riddle reminded. She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped as she caught a hint of hidden meaning in his statement.

"Did you use magic in front of those soldiers and Arthos?" she inquired wildly through gritted teeth. She knew all too well the soldiers, Arthos especially, wouldn't have left him alone while he was wounded, so if he had used magic, then it would have had to of been in front of them.

"It was only a small charm to slow the bleeding," he answered as though it weren't a big deal.

"Tom!" she snarled.

"What?" he exclaimed in irritation. "I was slouched over while we were riding through the forest, and they didn't see me."

"How do you know?" she questioned, worrying about their exposure, or mainly his. If they knew, they only knew about Tom, which brought her to her next thought. Would he reveal her to be a witch? But she quickly pushed those ponderings from her mind and proceeded to interrogate him. "Did you use magic at any other time?" He was about to answer when she interrupted. "I bet you used it during the fight against Mardon!"

"I did not!" Riddle barked, insulted by her assumption that he couldn't take Mardon one-on-one without using wizardry. "I only used it for that spell. Besides, you're one to talk. You used it in that open field in broad daylight during the duel."

"You should be thankful that I did," Hermione retorted.

"Don't try and change the subject," he argued. "At least when I used magic we were in the forest at night so that it was plenty dark enough, and I was slouched over to boot!"

"Oh! Whatever, then!" she huffed, stepping around him and heading for the door. She knew she had been defeated there.

"Where are you going?" he asked suddenly.

"To change and get a bath," she responded without looking back as she opened the door and stalked out into the corridor. Hermione was halfway to her room when she met up with Mary and Janessa, both of whom were looking for her.

"There you are. Where've you been?" Mary wondered aloud.

"We had a bath ready for you earlier, but when we went back to get you, you weren't there," Janessa explained. "And we searched all over for you after that."

"I had went to the library to get a book and then down to the kitchens to get something to eat. I was hungry from not eating all my dinner," Hermione murmured simply.

"We didn't look there," Janessa muttered more to herself than anyone else.

"Come along, then," Mary beckoned, "before your bath water gets cold."

* * *

Halfway through the week, on the third day of the festivities, Hermione had already been to numerous contests of strength, games, and performances by the carnival goers. She had congratulated more winners than she could remember and been invited to more people's house in congratulations of her own on her wedding than she ever thought possible. Each one had been declined though, and the winner and their family ate dinner at the castle each night. By the end of the third day, Hermione was laying in bed, her stomach packed to the bursting point with food and dreading anymore contests of any sort that might have a congratulatory dinner afterwards. Just then, there was a knock at her door and in stepped Mary. 

"Pardon me, Princess-"

"Ana, Mary. Ana," Hermione corrected with a sigh as she rolled onto her side in the bed and looked at the maid with a kind, but tired eye.

"Ana," she repeated with a curt nod. "Duchess Rodmilla has sent for you."

"The Duchess is here?" Hermione questioned, her brow furrowed. "It's awful late, isn't it?"

"She only just arrived a few moments ago," Mary replied. "She asked that you meet her in her room." With that said, Mary bowed her head to which Hermione shook her own in silently amused disapproval. Those ladies in waiting would never learn to treat her as a friend instead of the person who was soon-to-be queen.

Once Mary had left the room, Hermione slid off the bed and left for the Duchess's quarters, which were across the hall from the Duke's. Hermione knocked and heard a polite call telling her to enter. She opened the door, peaked in, and spotted the Duchess sitting at a vanity while a maid unpacked Rodmilla's things.

"Come in, Ana, love," the older woman beckoned. "Elaina, leave us for a moment." The maid curtsied and moved swiftly from the room as Hermione entered fully. The door was shut behind her, and the two dogs that belong to the Duchess sat up on the bed in interest as their master rose from her seat. "I've something to give you before tomorrow's bridal party. I only hope that you haven't gotten one already, and if you haven't, I pray that you'll honor me by doing me the favor of wearing it," Rodmilla explained as she walked over to a separate, smaller trunk in the corner of the room. "Sit down."

Hermione took the Duchess's vacant seat and watched as the older woman pulled the trunk towards them. Shutting the case that the maid had been unpacking, Rodmilla sat upon it and pulled the smaller luggage between them.

"Now," she began as she unhooked the latches on the lid, "this was to be kept for my own daughter or daughter-in-law had I ever had children. But since I didn't, I figured that you were so like a daughter to me that I should pass it on to you, and I pray that you'll do the same."

By now, Hermione was very curious as to what laid within the piece of luggage. She sat up straight, trying to see over the lid as the Duchess lifted it gently with her fingertips at each corner. Rodmilla smiled, a glimmer in her eye as the Gryffindor Head Girl craned her neck to see what the older woman was reaching into the case for. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she saw what was being pulled from the depths of the luggage. A long, off-white gown with intricate beading hung in Rodmilla's hands. The great amounts of crinoline made the skirt stand on its own and there was a finely designed lace covering the silken material of the dress.

Hermione stood slowly, never taking her eyes off the dress as they filled with tears. She opened her mouth to comment on the lovely garment with its complex, golden, beaded stitches that covered the train of it, but found her speech halted. She was moved by such a gracious, generous gift with such meaning.

"I had hoped you'd like it," Rodmilla whispered with teary eyes of her own.

"How can I turn away such a lovely dress and such a magnanimous gift?" Hermione spoke softly, trying to steady her voice as she expressed her gratitude.

"You don't have to."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Hermione added as she lifted a sleeve in her hand and ran her thumb over the lace and beading.

The dress smelled faintly of wine and a fading perfume which reminded Hermione of wild flowers and springtime. It was a sweet scent, warming and inviting.

"There's a tiara and some jewelry that I've brought with me as well. My grandmother wore them in her own wedding and gave them to me to wear as well. I hope you'll except those, too," the Duchess offered as she laid the wedding gown lightly across the end of her bed.

"I'd love to," Hermione choked out as the Duchess continued to pull gifts from the trunk while the younger of the two continued her examination of the garment.

Hermione sighed contentedly. She thought of what was to come; the wedding she would take part in. A faint smile danced on her face as the Duchess stood next to her, watching Hermione admire the off-white dress. Soon, she would marry Tom, and strangely, she felt excitement in that. Had her dreams of the perfect white wedding with Ron really been replaced by visions of the reality that was to come? Was this what she was meant to have? '_I suppose things don't always come out the way you plan_.'

* * *

"Wake up, sleepy head!" Mima laughed as she bounced up and down on Hermione's bed. "Rise and shine! It's after nine in the morning, and if you don't get up, you're going to miss your own bridal party!" Hermione groaned and rolled over, squinting through the bright sunlight that filled her room to focus on the ecstatic girl next to her. 

"Bridal party?" Hermione repeated groggily. "What bridal party?"

"The Duchess arranged for her cousins and nieces from Paris to come. My mother is here with a friend of mine from back home. Your ladies in waiting will be there as well as a few other prominent women," Mima answered.

"And who put this together, might I ask?"

"The Duchess. I helped a little," Hermione's companion supplied.

"You're too kind... really," Hermione grumbled before rolling over and burying her head in her pillow. She really just wanted to sleep, but she was soon dragged from the bed and made to dress by Mary and Janessa. After an unnecessary blindfolding, Hermione was led down to the main floor and out to the garden. With some difficulty, she was seated, and worry began to set in as she heard whispering around her. "This really isn't necessary," Hermione informed concernedly as she felt someone removing her blindfold. However, she kept her eyes shut, almost afraid to open them and see what they had in store for her.

"Open your eyes, Ana," Rodmilla advised excitedly.

Hermione fought back the urge to grimace as she kept them closed. She just didn't want to look. '_No sense prolonging my suffering._' With that thought, she slowly opened her eyes to a squint. Everything was blurry to her, so she opened one eye fully and was surprised by what was before her. She was seated at the head of a long table which was laden in cakes, teapots, vases of flowers, and quaint little place settings for each guest. Hermione stared at her plate for a moment as it gleamed in the early morning sunlight before glancing up to the Duchess who was standing next to her.

"You really didn't have to do this," the younger woman administered.

"But I did, dear," Rodmilla whispered while patting her on the shoulder. "Well, ladies, take your seats. Oh! Ana, this is my niece, Florence." Hermione nodded and smiled as the girl inclined her head and sat down a seat away at Hermione's right. "Florence has so kindly offered to assist with your hair for the wedding," the Duchess explained as she took the seat next to Hermione on the right. "She's just come in from Paris and knows a great deal about the latest fashions there." Hermione had a feeling as she glanced down the table at the chattering women that this was going to be a very long day.


	38. The Wedding Ball & Doubts

**A/N:** Quick thank you to: _fatcakes, Seed-of-Flame, xXxTom4everxXx, mimbulus-mimbletonia, Silver Tears 11, Hater-of-heartless-critics, ellamalfoy8, the. dead. addict. _(Little extra thanks to you for pointing that grammar mistake out to me), _Alana84, hippychick21, LeSinner, libaka, Gueneviere, SweetChoasandRevenge,_ and_ otter-weasel.shipper._ Your times and reviews are deeply appreciated. Now here's the next chapter.

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**Chapter 38 – The Wedding Ball & Doubts**

"If I have to play another bachelorette game or look at another flower-based tiara, I'm going to scream," Hermione grumbled as she kicked off her shoes and dropped back on her bed.

Tom was standing across the room trying to recall a spell that he had once learned to rid something of stench. He too had had a party. It had started much earlier than Hermione's had; at five o'clock sharp that morning in fact. The Duke, the King, Arthos, and various other men had all risen for a hunt. The Duke had even had a special white fox brought in in the spirit of such an occasion. After the hunt was over with Arthos being the victor, they made their way back into town and to a local tavern. There they ate lunch and began their consumption of alcohol. The festivities continued up at the castle when they returned for an early dinner and the opening of gifts to Tom. He had received many things, most of which he had no real use for. There was a gun with a finely carved case, a bow and arrow set for hunting, a new pair of riding gloves and boots, a box of expensive cigars and a bottle of alcohol, and many other things. By the time the party was over, Riddle stunk of strong inebriants, cigar smoke, and an intense scent of the forest. He could no longer stand it as it was giving him a slight headache.

"At least you got to sleep four more hours than I did," heobjected as he removed his jacket and boots and sat down at her vanity while still trying to recall the words for the spell.

"Yes, but you didn't have to put up with a bunch of giggling twits," Hermione grouched as she rolled over onto her stomach and watched him stare at the floor in thought.

"No, I had to put up with a band of intoxicated fools who did nothing but smoke, yell, and talk about hunting."

"I suppose we both had an equally painful time, then," Hermione sighed as she snuggled a pillow and stifled a yawn.

Hermione's bridal party had been just about the same. After a tea and cake breakfast, the ladies had taken to walking around the garden and going for a horseback ride. Proceeding that, they retired to the sun room to open gifts. Hermione, just like Tom, had gotten things that she would never intend on using. New shoes, hats, gloves, jewelry, bedsheets, and even lingerie among other things. Hermione had began blushing profusely and not from the wine that had been brought out either, but for the turn in topic that the conversation had taken. She had never thought that half of these ladies would talk of such things, then again, most were slightly drunken. She had thanked Merlin when it was all over at six o'clock that evening, and she had been able to retire to her room where Tom had been waiting for an hour. Now the two rested peacefully.

"No chance of your dolts in waiting popping in here, is there?" Riddle inquired as he stood and crossed the room to open the balcony doors.

"No. They were quite tipsy when I left," Hermione responded as she got up and made her way to the vanity. She picked up the brush and began untangling the mess of flowers from her hair while Tom continued to ponder the charm. Hermione knew it, but she wouldn't tell him. If he was too proud to ask, then she was too good to tell him. And besides, she sort of enjoyed watching him pace the room in thought. It kept him silent if anything. "Don't sit on my bed," she warned as he stopped to take a seat. "I don't want my pillows and covers smelling like a malodorous pub."

Grunting with frustration, Tom rolled his eyes and headed towards the balcony. He slid down the doorway and watched as she winced and whispered curses while pulling leaves, stems, and petals from her hair.

"I'll be glad when this is all... _over_," she stated with added emphasis on the last word as she yanked the brush through a large knot in her light brown locks.

"You and me both," he agreed. "Just don't forget what tomorrow is."

"What?" she asked, turning in her seat to look at him, one side of her hair fluffed like it had been blown dried far too much.

"The wedding ball," he answered.

"Oh, for the love of practicality!" Hermione exclaimed in aggravation, slamming the brush down on the vanity and pulling her wand from her sleeve. "These people take celebration to the extreme," she complained as she stood and cast a spell over her hair to remove the remaining objects and tangles. "And haven't you figured that spell out yet?" Before Tom could bark his response, she cast a spell over him and removed the awful stink. She huffed and dropped down onto the bed, mumbling something about ridiculousness. "I'll be so glad when this is over, and we can get back to working on returning to the proper place and time," she muttered before shaking her head and rolling onto her back to stare at the canopy in quiet reverie.

* * *

She wasn't sure when she had went to sleep or when Tom had left the room, but Hermione rolled over and saw that it was still partly dark outside. Had she been asleep all night? She must have. It had been dark last night when she and Riddle had retired to her quarters. Climbing out of bed, she walked in her bare feet to the wardrobe. Yawning immensely, she closed her eyes and let her fingers grope the stained cherry oak of the door, trying to find the brass handle. Her digits managed to find the cold metal and turn it. She rubbed her eyes and squinted as she tried to focus on what was inside the closet. Dress after dress. Maroon, plum, navy, hunter green, tan and gold, gray and pink, light blue. She had no desire to wear any of them. She wanted to be able to wear jeans and a jumper or even her Hogwarts uniform again. 

"Riddle has no idea how lucky he is that he doesn't have to squeeze into a corset or a heavy, hot skirt," she grumbled as she yanked one of the dresses from its hanger, not even caring.

After dressing, she left her room and headed straight for Tom's. She knocked and entered. Hermione expected him to be asleep because he hadn't answered when her knuckles rapped on the wooden, hinged barrier. However, he was awake and dressed, standing in front of the mirror while admiring something pinned to his chest. He looked smug and arrogantly pleased.

"Morning person I see," Hermione commented as she leaned in the doorway. "That or something has you very happy. Which is it?"

"I have the capacity to be a morning person, but something has made me happy," he replied with a self-assured tone as he glanced complacently over his shoulder.

"What is it?" she inquired, genuinely curious and partly hopeful that it concerned her and the future as well.

"The King came for a visit this morning." Her hopes fell a little after this statement. "He bestowed a well earned gift upon me."

"Oh, and what's that?" she quizzed as she strolled farther into the room. It was then that her eyes caught the gleam of what he had been amorously gazing at earlier. A medal of some sort.

"See these decorations?" he remarked as she turned to face her and flashed the bars pinned to his chest, stars pinned below that. "They denote something very important." She had seen those honors somewhere else before. But where?

"What are they for?" Hermione pushed.

"I've been named the new ranking general," Riddle smirked. "I'll soon be King as well. Miraculous how fast power comes back in this era."

"That's why most royal posts were corrupt in some way," she noted, seeing an almost forgotten malicious glint in his onyx orbs. "Besides, we won't be around to rule for too long. In fact, not at all if we get back to work after the wedding."

"What makes you so sure of that, Granger?"

"I'm not sure... but I have to have faith in it."

"Why do you want to go back so badly?" he hissed, his temper slipping a little.

"Unlike you, I had friends and family back there. I had incentive for wanting to stay in the future... and I thought for sure that you wanted to go back as well."

"I had," he muttered disgustedly. "But just think of it! We know what's to come in the future. The inventions and the wars. We could have the longest running, most powerful reign there's ever been. We'd go down in history for sure."

"We-," she stopped as she noticed something. He had continually used the word 'we'. The old Tom Riddle wouldn't have cared to have anyone rule beside him. Surely he cared for her now, so she needed to use that to her advantage. But how? "We can't do that," Hermione picked back up. "It's wrong, and you know it. It's not only dangerous to the future and the delicate balance of things, but also to ourselves. Witches and wizards live far longer than any Muggle. If Muggles were to take notice of how we age much longer and better than themselves, they'd surely discover us. Then what?"

He knew she was right. In more ways than one, too. They couldn't escape the fact that they would age well and be discovered; that would cause turmoil among the communities of magic and Muggle. It could also prove dangerous to rewrite the future. What might happen if they did? Who would cease to exist and what occurrences would be disordered from their original state? But if he allowed her to talk him into returning, what would happen? Would the diary be destroyed again, thus destroying him? Could the diary even be found to do that? What would happen to him? What would happen to them?

She saw the furrow of his brow and the distance in his eyes that meant he was concentrating on something deeply. But what?

"Tom?" she uttered, stepping toward him.

He snapped out of his reverie and looked at her in silent observance. One question still lingered in his mind. What would happen to or even between them when they returned to 1997?

"I suppose you're right," he breathed indifferently. "It would be disastrous for us to remain. After the wedding, we'll go back to trying to figure out a way to get out of this time." She smiled fondly and eyed him with admiration.

"Now that that is settled, would you like to go see about some breakfast?" she suggested.

He inclined his head twice in a nod that gestured his approval before following her from the room. As he followed her down the corridor, he felt a hindrance in the back of his mind. Would she stick by him in defense when they returned or turn away from him and let him possibly fall at the hands of those who dubbed themselves righteous? It was after this thought that he recalled why he had never fostered the idea of love for fear of betrayal. Everything became a gamble once one allowed the sparks of such an idea to ignite a flame within one's self.

* * *

The castle was a bustling place all afternoon. People running here and there, banners hither and tither, servants speeding about with fresh linen table clothes in their arms and polishing floors. The kitchen was a sound room for a cacophony of clinking pots and pans, shouts from servants, roaring flames, and chopping knives. Even outside was full of commotion. Gardeners clipping hedges, rose brushes being pruned, windows being washed, and walkways were being rid of weeds or overgrown plants. 

Hermione hadn't dared to move out of the library where she sat with Tom in the back. This was the first bit of peace they had gotten in a while, and much to her surprise and pleasure, Riddle had begun reviewing where they had left off with the plan on returning to the future. She could tell that he was a bit annoyed with the disturbances of the castle, so she kept quiet and merely read a book as he sat writing. However, her efforts to give him peace and comfort were thwarted when Janessa and Mary came jogging in.

"Prin-," Janessa began, panting, "-cess."

"It's time you were... getting ready," the other lady in waiting breathed from beside her companion. "Your father, the King, wants you and Aramis to be ready a tad bit early so that-"

"You may stand at the front door and greet the guests as they arrive," the the first maid finished. "He said it's the proper thing to do."

Hermione glanced at Tom for a moment only to find him glaring at her as though to say he wished they were invisible. Rising, she eyed him apologetically before turning and being led from the library by her maids. She followed them to a room that was void of any furniture except a large bathing unit, some vases of flowers, and a wardrobe where robes and towels were kept. They left her to bathe and afterwards, she suffered more than two hours of pulling, yanking, twisting, and brushing of her slightly knotted hair while sitting at the vanity in her room. Her head ached more than before as she watched them with a fearful eye while they laid out brushes, poofs, and tiny metal tins that contained only goodness knew what. Picking up one container, Hermione opened it and sneezed immediately. Powder burst into the air, and she found her nose burning as a terrible taste filled her mouth. The taste rushed her senses. Her eyes watered, her nose filled with the perfumed scent which overpowered her, and the taste made her mouth dry and bitter. Placing the tin back on the vanity, Hermione brushed her face off with a discarded towel.

"Ready?" Mary inquired as Janessa held an overly large brush in her hand with a container of deep crimson make-up.

"No," Hermione answered immediately with a firm, almost dreading tone. "I'll take care of that myself."

"Very well," Mary sighed while shrugging to her friend. "We'll go fetch your dress."

Hermione nodded, alleviation flooding her body as the two turned tail and moved swiftly from the room. Turning to the mirror once they had left, Hermione frowned. Her face was red from the earlier incident and the rubbing she had done to remove the substance. Exhaling intemperately, her lips made a noise much like a horse as she picked up a tiny container and a poof. Dabbing it lightly into the powder, she shook her head while examining the now covered applicator in her hand. Figuring it was best to just get it over with, Hermione applied her make-up lightly and left it at that.

Just as she was walking out onto the balcony, her ladies in waiting entered with her dress. Her eyes glanced the peridot garment for only a second before Mary and Janessa began pulling her towards the bed. She tried to give her protests as the two removed her bathrobe. She silently thanked Merlin for her undergarments, but was soon cursing the two in a muffled manner as they threw the dress over her head and began pulling and tugging it into place.

"That wasn't necessary. I'm more than... stop it!" she barked as they stood fiddling with tufts of her hair. "I'm more than capable of handling this process myself, thank you. You're dismissed."

"But your-"

"Go," Hermione interrupted, pointing to the door. "I'll handle it."

Bowing their heads, Mary and Janessa curtsied before moving in a quick, scorned manner from the room. Picking up her shoes from the bed, Hermione dropped them gently to the floor and slid her foot in while picking up a folded handkerchief from the bed. A pearl necklace and earrings dropped from it, so she quickly adorned them and left the room without so much as a check in the mirror. The faster she got this over with, the faster she could get out of the uncomfortable situation that was approaching. As she moved through the corridors towards the entrance hall, she thought of the irony of the situation. When she had been little, her father had called her his 'little tooth fairy princess', and she would make him sit at tea parties with her and her stuffed animals while they drank tea, ate sugar-free cakes, and listened to Hermione read a dentistry magazine. Now that she knew what being a princess was like, she no longer thought it was such an endearment for him to call her one.

She finally made it to the front doors, only to see Tom standing there looking bored, stiff, and slightly annoyed by a fidgeting Arthos who stood next to him trying to check his reflection in a polished, rose gold vase.

"Do I look all right? Her moth-mother and father a-are coming tonight," Arthos stuttered as he smoothed his hair and straightened the buttons on his uniform for the umpteenth time.

"If you keep messing with you hair like that," Tom growled, trying his best to control his temper, "then you're going to go bald very soon."

Hermione suppressed a smile as she stood at the bottom of the stairs figuring that if Arthos did go bald, it wouldn't be because he had been continually brushing his fingers over his hair, but because Tom would curse him for the irritation he was causing.

"Princess Ana!" Arthos called with nervous enthusiasm.

Riddle turned his head in the direction of her and narrowed his eyes as he carefully examined her beauty. She blushed slightly under his calculating scrutiny as she joined them, noticing herself how regal and handsome he was in his deep hunter green jacket, pressed white slacks, and shined black boots.

"Have you seen Princess Mima?" Arthos inquired, disrupting their admiring inspection of each other.

"No, I haven't," she remarked truthfully. "I haven't seen her all day in fact."

Tom smirked as Arthos dawned a worried expression. Hermione's unknowing torture of the boy was amusing to Riddle. He groaned inaudibly as the King approached from down the hall, servants following him clumsily with a bulky rolled carpet. They were obviously part of last minute preparations as they rushed past and began laying the carpet from inside the entrance hall, down the steps, and out onto the drive. A set of engraved wooden steps were sat at the end of the ornate floor covering, and the King beamed.

"Well done, well done. Ana. Aramis. You two are a few minutes ahead of schedule, so I'll brief you on the proper greeting that my father and mother informed me of," the older man addressed. "When the guests arrive, a coachman will open the door and assist them in getting out of their carriage. As they're doing so, you must smile graciously in warm welcome. The doorman will announce them in good order, they'll approach, you'll give a small inclination of you head and shoulders, but never a full bow. Once that nicety is exchanged, you may accept a hand shake or whatever they offer, tell them welcome and thank them for showing."

Feeling that this might not be too bad, Hermione relaxed, although her fingers were still clutching some of the folds in her dress out of anxious habit.

"Be sure to stand straight and tall; never slouch," the King continued. "Try not to yawn or look tired and at all annoyed while greeting guest. After an hour or so, they should all be here, and you may come into the ball room where you will be given an introduction after which you will mingle for a while, show interest in the gifts that are brought, and then propose a toast."

"A toast?" Tom repeated.

"Yes, a toast. In which you must once again thank everyone for coming, wish them their health, promise to try to have a successful reign, and the like."

"Your majesty!" hollered a boy who was throwing on a dress coat as he came running in from outside, stumbling on the steps as he did. "The first of the guests... they're arriving!"

"All right. Places, then," the King boomed excitedly.

Straightening themselves, Hermione and Tom followed the King outside and onto the steps where they watched a carriage making its way through the walls of the castle's outside barrier and around the circular drive. Hermione suddenly became very aware of herself and squared away her shoulders while extending her spine and holding her head high. For anyone who knew her, or even Tom for that matter, they would have been surprised at just how regal the pair looked.

Eyes on the coachman, Hermione watched as he flattened his uniform, changed his posture, and stood like a statue, posed to open the door. The clop of hooves slowed, and the sound of horses chopping bits, shaking their reins, and the carriage latches clinking was the only noise heard as they waited. The coachman opened the door, and the man standing beside Hermione, Riddle, and the King cleared his throat.

"Announcing his imperial majesty... King Bogdan Fane of Austria, his wife and her majesty, Queen Cosmina Elisabeta, their daughter, Princess Iemima Amariei, and their guest, Lord Ion Grigore," the doorman bellowed.

Doing exactly as she was told, Hermione smiled warmly while watching them approach the stairs. She took a moment to peer at Tom and found him looking unemotional, his face in neither a frown nor smile.

"Bogdan," Hermione's mock father greeted with enthusiasm. To this the Austrian king extended his hand while clapping the other king upon the shoulder. They then turned to Cosmina.

"My wife," Fane introduced with a thick Austrian accent as his wife held out her hand to the other man who accepted her courteous gesture and placed a gentle, quick kiss upon her knuckles.

"So nice to see you again, Cosmina. You grow more lovely each time we meet... I thank you both for coming to my daughter's wedding ball. She has nothing but gratitude towards you for doing so, isn't that right, Ana?"

"Absolutely," Hermione replied. "Both Aramis and I are so pleased you could join us in celebration of our betrothal."

Bogdan extended his hand to Riddle who shook it while staying as serious as possible. He bent slightly in a half bow to Cosmina who took her husband's offered arm and proceeded past the engaged couple into the castle. Meanwhile, Mima had been greeted by the King and paused only momentarily to introduce Ion Grigore, her father's friend, before passing by as well after asking about Arthos.

"He's just inside," Hermione whispered and looked back over his shoulder to see the young soldier stepping around the doorway, still as uneasy looking as ever. She smiled as he took Mima's hand and approached her parents, grinning broadly in what he hoped was a winning expression. Hermione would have continued to watch the scene, but the sound of another carriage and the doorman announcing another arrival stole away her attention.

"Introducing Count John Montagu and his wife, Countess Martha Ray!"

The couple made quick work of the salutation and once they were past, Hermione saw that another three coaches had arrived. Emitting a slight moan of boredom under her breath, she pondered how much longer she and Riddle had to go in the hour that they were supposed to spend greeting guests.

* * *

"I'm grateful that that's over with," Hermione uttered to Tom as they walked away from the door a little more than an hour later. "It was getting a little cold out there." 

"I can tell. Your hands are like ice, and your cheeks and nose are pink," he commented as he took her arm and draped it over his own. "I suppose that this can only last a little while longer, eh?"

"We can only hope so," she sighed as they stopped outside the door and waited to be announced by the doorman who had been standing with them outside.

"Please welcome the guests of honor... her royal highness, Princess Anastasia, and her fiancé, General Aramis D'Artagnan!"

The fact that Tom was deemed general seemed to surprise a few guests, but it only caused him to embellish a smirk of arrogant importance as they entered the room. Hermione secretly rolled her eyes before nodding courteously to guests as she passed them. They joined the King, Lord Johnalin, a woman who appeared to be Johnalin's partner for the night, and some others.

"Congratulations, Princess," Johnalin spoke up, though the look on his face was distasteful and somewhat pained.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, though her exuberance in the statement was lacking.

"Yes, thank you, Johnalin," Tom butt in. "So nice to see you again. Where have you been lately? Haven't seen much of you."

Johnalin passed a glare to Riddle who gave a snide sort of half smile.

"I've been away in Paris at a boarding school for young boys. I'm teaching there now. Though your father has assure me, Princess, that there'll be need for me once again when the time comes for your own children to take up schooling."

Hermione tried not to let her expression sour as she forced a kind grin.

"Surely." With that, she turned away from him, and at the King's request, she and Tom began mingling among those who were in the room. It was one congratulations after another as they carried on short small talk conversations and received well wishes and blessings. By the time the night was half through, Hermione found her lower back aching from her perfect posture and the corset of the dress.

"It's far too warm in here," Tom whispered as attention was called to them, and they were each given a tall, crystalline glass filled three-fourths of the way full with a gold, bubbling liquid.

"Our happy couple would like to propose a toast," the King boomed, appearing to have already had far too many toasts judging by the tinge in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He turned to them and waited, Tom peeking at Hermione from the corner of his eye. She was apprehensively eyeing those around them, all of whom stared on in sweltering dresses, stiff, starched uniforms, and curious patience. Sensing that she wasn't going to speak up any time soon, Riddle took her hand and squeezed it, causing her to start a little as she snapped her head towards him.

"To our guests for joining us tonight in early celebration of our wedding," he shouted in pretend spirit. He paused and glimpsed the King who nodded for him to continue. "To my lovely Ana, whom I love dearly. May our marriage be happy and prosperous-"

"Here, here!" yelled the Duke, whom Hermione and Tom had run into only shortly earlier that evening. "With many children!"

Light applause in the room showed approval of the addition. Nodding only just so, Tom raised his glass.

"To many happinesses, triumphs, and joys as well as... our friends," Riddle finished before raising his glass to his lips, the congregation following his lead. Hermione smirked as he finished, it was quite amusing to hear him make such a speech.

"How about a dance between our honored couple!" the Duchess suggested as she stood beside her husband.

The crowd around them clapped their agreement and before either of the young people could protest, their glasses were whisked away, and the center of the floor cleared for them. Hermione felt flashes of reminiscence at events from the Yule Ball. The first dance for the champions, and her moment with Viktor as he twirled her around the floor past the other three couples.

Placing her hand upon Tom's shoulder and her other hand in his proffered one, she locked eyes with him and waited for his lead. The music began, and they began a waltz-like movement around a small circle of the floor. He wasn't as pushy or rough as Viktor had been, but he led perfectly instead. His movements were fluid, and his hands held her just right. Her feet barely touched the ground, and surprisingly, she found herself smiling, partly unaware of the crowd around her.

The music seemed to play on for what felt like at least a half an hour, and by the time it stopped, Hermione took notice of the fact that King Bogdan and Queen Cosmina, Mima and Arthos, Johnalin and his lady escort, and a few other couples such as the Duke and Duchess had joined their waltz. A round of applause was offered up to those playing instruments, and Tom and Hermione sneaked away to a secluded part of the room where they could spend a moment in peace and relaxation.

As they walked along, she felt the inklings of true happiness. Riddle was fantastic in most every way. But as she stood sipping from a glass of cool champagne which tingled in her nose and on her tongue, she thought of something. Would he be the same wonderful guy she had fallen for when they returned to 1997 or would he turn on her and continue with his plans to join his older counterpart in taking down one of her dearest friends, The Boy Who Lived, in completion of their evil plan to rule the wizarding world while ridding it of Muggles and Muggle-borns? Would his feelings for her, if he truly had any, prevail against the urge to be a powerful dark lord? Could she trust him? Hermione knew from experience that he was deceptive in many ways. He had fooled Harry with the memory he had showed him in the diary. Tricked Ginny and been dishonest with countless others. She bit down on her lip, trying to hide the frown on her face with her glass. Part of her wanted to ask him if he loved her and would stick by her. Then again, part of her didn't want to know what he might say because it could be a lie.


	39. Wedding Day Worries

**A/N:** This chapter is horridly long. And it took even longer to write. I hope that it pleases everyone, and I pray that I haven't lost readers. There's only one more chapter left to this story - thank goodness; I'm starting to hate it. So I'll give my thank you's and let you get to reading. Thanks to: _DeceptiveFates, Autumn's-Smile, YELLOWMONKEY520, Gueneviere, the. dead. addict., SweetChaosAndRevenge, Seed-of-Flame, emeraldice77, ellamalfoy8, libaka, fatcakes, Charming-Lynn, Tigger-180, Alana84, NovelGurl, Barranca, evilangel-001, Vera-Sabe, sarahyyy, ebonyquill, SoraXNamine, fR3ak, Talenyn01, blindfaithoperadiva, _and _113crc._

* * *

**Chapter 39 – Wedding Day Worries**

The remainder of time up until the night before the wedding day had been nothing but time full of doubt, worry, anxiety, and irritation. Mary and Janessa hadn't left Hermione alone about preparations and such while everyone else in the castle bustled about. Its many guests, who were all of royal meanings, either caught her and wished her luck or gave her tips while servants of the place came rushing by to care for something or someone.

She had gotten so fed up with hearing about how beautiful she would look and how she needed something borrowed, something new, something old, and something blue. In fact, she had stayed shut up in her room away from all the guests just to be able to relax away from the commotion.

She hadn't even talked to Tom Riddle for that matter. They hadn't much to say to each other whenever they took the time to be together, so they left each other alone in order to avoid the awkwardness. For instance, whenever they sat in the presence of the other, it was nothing but inconvenient silence and quick, stolen glances. So the two had come to an unspoken agreement to give the other the time that they needed to think alone and sit in peace without feeling the other's uncertain eyes upon them.

Hermione heaved a sigh and drew her knees up to her chin. She was sitting in the middle of her bed, her eyes burning with the urge to fight back tears, and her stomach tying itself in knots. Tomorrow was the day; the wedding was nearly there. There was no backing out now, and she knew that because she had came to that conclusion earlier in the day when the King had told her just how proud he was of her. Heaving another shuddering sigh, she felt her throat constrict a little tighter. She wanted to clear her head and sleep without trouble, but that was impossible at the moment. Hoping that a walk might cure her, she rose from the bed, threw on a robe, and headed out into the corridors.

It was just after ten and the castle's occupants all seemed to be snoozing or doing something relaxing in their rooms because no one roamed the halls, not even the servants. She felt so alone and targeted in that moment as she wandered the hallways that she became immensely homesick. She wanted to hear Harry's voice, Ron's laugh, see Ginny's smiling face, hear Peeves cackle and sing, and even the scolding of Professor Snape as she tried to assist Neville in class.

Hermione sniffled and blinked away the tears that were now stinging her eyes, and as she rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand to remove a stray tear, she heard something behind her. She turned around and saw someone strolling up the corridor with their hands in their pockets and their head cast to the floor. She recognized the outline immediately and didn't need the wane light of a nearby room to tell her that it was Riddle.

His eyes landed upon her feet, and he looked up, his onyx orbs trailing the length of her body until they fell upon her face. He stared for a moment before exhaling heavily.

"Tomorrow... I never thought that it would strike me so," he administered in a little more than a mumble. "Although I never imagined that something like this would even happen. I certainly never thought that I would be pacing the corridors of a castle in 1797 at this hour the night before a wedding that I was to be the groom in."

She nodded her understanding and swallowed deeply against the lump that was choking out tears. She had no idea what to say to him, and she feared that if she opened her mouth, she would expressed the fear of marrying him and the wish that she didn't have to now. However, Hermione figured that he already understood her classic cold feet symptoms and so she remained silent instead.

"I suppose we're just suffering from nervous disorders," he half-heartedly chuckled, trying to make her smile at least while seemingly reading her mind. "I'm sure that once we've gotten this over with, and we get to work on what's important, then we'll be just fine. I mean, it's not like it's the end of the world, this marriage... right?"

Again she nodded and hugged herself, clutching her elbows tightly. She accidentally let a sniffling hiccup escape her; the sound of it shattering the silence between them and finally making him see just how truly terrified of this marriage she was.

"Hermione, listen," he uttered softly, pulling a hand from his pocket and reaching out to her. His fingertips brushed gently across her knuckles; her hands were still clutching her elbows as she hugged herself. He was so unsure of what to say to soothe her, so he reached out both hands, placing them atop her own. "It'll be all right; it's nothing too serious. We're just going to look at it as we said we were."

He watched as a tear slid down her cheek in gentle, slick, and noiseless way. He wondered now if it was fear for the wedding in the form of cold feet, or was she horrified by the thought of marrying him.

"Let's leave," he whispered instantly as an idea sprang to him. "We can Apparate to the cave where Meg was and go by foot from there. Or maybe we can Apparate to Bluffshire!" His voice was filled with whispered excitement; he didn't know why he hadn't thought of that idea sooner.

She looked up into his face to see the expression that accompanied such enthusiasm in his tone and saw his eyes glittering with anticipation for her agreement. Behind that anticipation, she thought she sensed something like concern for her. That little bit of sparkling care reinforced her belief in him and the fact that they had to stay until the wedding was over.

"We have to wait until the wedding is through with. Once we're done with that, I'm sure that things will settle for us, just a tad anyways. We have to do as we said before," she assured him with an unfaltering gaze. "We can't raise any kind of alarm by running away, okay?"

He sighed and the excitement slipped from his eyes as he glanced to the floor for a moment.

"Fine," he muttered solemnly while a clock nearby struck the hour of eleven. "It's getting late, and we've got to be up early... Besides, it's supposedly bad luck to see the bride on the day of the wedding before the ceremony, and it will be midnight before we know it. Not that I believe in those silly superstitions, might I add."

"All the same," Hermione remarked, "I don't think we should chance it; there's no need for anymore bad luck."

"Yeah," he breathed in a half laugh. "I'll walk with you back to your room."

She nodded, and they set off at a slow pace for her quarters. A few lamps inside some of the rooms extinguished as they walked by; a sign that the last insomniacs of the castle were finally fading into sleepy states. Minutes dragged by in silence, just as they had before. She became startled when his hand brushed hers while walking. They didn't even bother to look at each other as he tucked his hands back into his pockets while she crossed her arms over her chest.

Tom suddenly became aware of her breathing when an almost inaudible exhale of slight boredom, or maybe nervousness, jumped from her lips. The subtle movements of her shoulders and chest as she walked along beside him caught his eye. She glanced at him and the rise of her shoulders paused at their peak as her gaze lingered. He didn't bother to look away though; she had been staring at his pockets where his hands rested in relaxed partial fists rather than his face. Pondering for a moment, he hesitated, but then finally removed his long-fingered hands from their hiding place. He stared straight ahead, waiting for confirmation of his thoughts that she wanted to take his hand for comfort.

Meanwhile, she chewed the inside of her lip, aware of the fact that he had placed his hands back into her reach. Trying to act nonchalantly, she brought up her delicate digits and scratched gently behind her ear while gazing around the corridor. They were halfway to her room, and she realized time was running out. Inhaling deeply as though bored by the silence, she pretended to unintentionally drop her hands back to her sides. Their pinkies brushed twice before Riddle finally stretched out his hand and caught hers within his.

A smile flickered on her lips, though she tried to hide it, and they continued on that way, hand-in-hand, silent, and somewhat relaxed until the came upon the door to her room. Neither looked at the other, nor did they speak right away, but they released the clasp of the other's hand and stared at the floor instead.

"I suppose I'll see you tomorrow in the church?" he commented in low tones.

"I suppose so," she replied just as quietly as she shifted to face him and looked upon his shadowy figure.

Tom watched her feet for a moment before bringing his eyes up to meet hers. He placed his thumb on her cheek and caressed it lightly.

"We've come pretty far, huh?" he mused.

"Yeah," she agreed while putting her hands around his waist and pulling herself closer to him. He embraced her before maneuvering so that she was looking up at him. He bent his neck slightly as she pressed upward on the tips of her toes. Their lips met in an all too sweet, subtle, and comforting kiss. At that moment, Hermione wondered what kissing in front of hundreds of people inside a church would be like tomorrow during their wedding. Would it be awkward or would it be as sincere as the chill-inducing exchange they were sharing right now? She couldn't be sure, but either way, she had calmed down some about the wedding.

Backing away, she gave him a small smirk before opening her door, all the while still facing him as she backed into her room and shut the door slowly. She turned to walk over to the bed when her door opened once more. Hermione looked back over her shoulder and saw Tom advance in one swift, large step. She turned fully as he reached out. One of his slender hands came to rest upon her shoulder while the other slid itself between her hair and her cheek. Before she knew it, she was drawn into another kiss by him, making it very apparent that their first kiss had been far too short for his liking and simply not enough.

A tingling sensation spread from her lips where the texture of his somewhat thin mouth against hers was sparking a passion within her. Her hands attached themselves atop his own before slinking along his forearms to his elbows. Her knees buckled, and he let his arms slide around her lower back. She clung to his neck now as their kiss prised the life from the other's mouth and left no room for either to breathe.

She was now pressed against him as his hold kept possession over her and refused to let her back away again. The feeling of him being so close and solid in front of her ignited something in her brain that drove her near mad as a feeling like a fiery arrow pierced her lower abdomen. He too felt a fiery sensation, but his burst in his veins and plainly screamed his need of her as an involuntary shiver traveled his spine when she let her fingers glide into his jet black hair. Their kiss was renewed a few times within the minutes that they stood there; neither were sure of what the time it was while their hands moved rapidly to grasp the other in place after place.

Suddenly regaining some composure and feeling that she should probably call a stop to things, Hermione pushed lightly against his shoulders, and he relinquished his grasp upon her midriff and lips.

"You should probably get going," she breathed heavily. "I mean, as you said, we've got to be up early, and I think we should wait before... well, just wait to continue this another time," she confessed whole-heartedly.

He rubbed the back of his neck where her hands had been and left their mark with a stirring, prickling sort of warmth. He gave a modest nod before stepping closer to her, bending forward, and placing a tender peck upon her cheek. Riddle backed off only an inch before whispering to her; his breath hot and shiver-inducing upon her skin.

"Good night," he bid before stepping back, turning, and leaving.

Her hands laid flat over her abdomen, pressing upon the skin, muscle, and tissue, willing the ardent feeling there to settle so she could sleep.

* * *

She had slept peacefully all night, and when she woke, she blushed at the remembrance of a dream she had had. Butterflies stirred and whirled in her stomach as she recalled the details in a bashful, but giddy mood.

She rose from the bed, her face rosy as a smile made her features glow in the early morning light. It was just after sun up, and Hermione had to be up and ready by ten so that she could be taken down to the church in the middle of town for the eleven o'clock wedding. Things in town were likely to be just as hectic as they were in the castle because everyone had taken up residency in the tavern rooms, inns, with family, and many were still arriving for the wedding from what she could see as she stared out the window.

She turned and looked around the room, wondering just how the day would come off. Last night had renewed her vigor for the wedding and Tom, and now nervous anticipation was mixing with glee inside her as she pondered what to do first. Should she hunt out Mary and Janessa so that she could bathe, or should she just sit in her bed until she was called upon? A docile rapping of someone at the door answered the question for her.

She no sooner turned toward the noise when the door creaked slowly open and the Duchess poked her head inside.

"Oh good! You're awake," she beamed as she opened the door fully and came in with Mary and Janessa behind her. "Your ladies have prepared a special bath for you. Come, come." The older woman crossed the room in a scurry of clunking heeled shoes on the floor. She swept Hermione towards the door as she talked about meeting up with her niece so that the young relation of hers could tend to the bride's hair for the event. "It'll be glorious, I assure you," Rodmilla continued to babble as they made their way down the hall.

It wasn't long before they were entering a room that smelled strongly of sweet scents. Hermione's stomach rumbled as the Duchess stood rambling about the latest fashions in Paris while Mary and Janessa grabbed a wooden bucket and began scooping some kind of liquid into Hermione's bath water. The steam of the water billowed about them, breaking their brows into an instant sweat.

"What is that?" the young Gryffindor girl inquired as she took a closer look at the tub and its contents, which weren't their normal clear state, but a cloudy, milky white.

"It's a special bath," Rodmilla replied before either Mary or Janessa could speak up. "It's a nice hot bath mixed with buttermilk, and we've even went into town this morning and bought you a particular soap with which to wash."

"A particular soap?" Hermione repeated with a questioning raise of her right brow.

"Yes," the Duchess answered with a nod while furrows sank into Hermione's forehead. "It's made with honey and oatmeal to scent your skin and leave it unblemished and smooth."

"Oh," the Hogwarts Head Girl uttered; she was still a tad uncertain about whole ordeal. "Then I'll take that," she said, forcing an awkward smile as she grabbed the soap from Mary and approached the bathtub, "and you may leave me to it."

"But you won't be requiring the assistance of your ladies in waiting?" Rodmilla quizzed in an unsure manner as she glanced to the two maids.

"The Princess never asks our assistance. Ever since she came back, it's been that way," Janessa responded for Hermione, who nodded her agreement and watched as the eldest of the three shrugged before she and the two maids left the room.

Turning back to her bath, Hermione breathed in the aroma and sighed contentedly; she was actually looking forward to this bath to relieve the tension and stress of the week.

* * *

Tom sat up in his bed like a bolt of lightning had hit him as a high-pitched, metallic clink and a dull, hollow clunk filled the once quiet room. He cast his wide eyes about quickly while his left hand flew under his pillow and gripped his wand.

A startled looking servant boy stood halfway between the bed and the door, a can of shoe polish and a wooden brush lay upon the floor around his feet as he clutched Riddle's black boots to his chest.

"I'm sorry, sir," the young child blurted as he got a fearfully apologetic look upon his face and scrambled to pick up the dropped items.

"That's fine," the older of the two mumbled as he released his grip on his wand, leaving it under the pillow. He rubbed his face and swung his legs out of bed. "What time is it?"

"It's just after eight, sir," the boy replied. "Shall I send for Milo, my brother, to have your badges and stuff polished as well?"

"Um... sure," Tom answered uncertainly. "What about a bath?"

"Madeline is waiting until I've brought news that you've awoken. George will be bringing up some breakfast for you while Maddie readies your tub," the small servant informed.

"Oh... all right," Riddle nodded, still slightly disoriented as he watched the boy stoop and gather what he had fumbled earlier before leaving with slight difficulty.

Riddle laid back on the bed and stared at the canopy for a moment, but soon his eyes were closed again, and he was drifting in and out of an odd dream about a boy who came to take his pillows to be cooked. Riddle wasn't sure how long he had been laying like he was, with one leg dangling over the edge of the bed and one arm as well, but he awoke as another servant, this one older, came in and cleared his throat loudly to bring Tom back to reality.

"Your breakfast, sir," the teenaged boy offered as Riddle shook his head, ruffled his hair, and blinked away the sleep from his eyes. George sat a tray on Tom's lap and began to speak again. "Is there anything that I can get for you now?" Riddle shook his head as he began tucking into his food. "I'll be waiting outside to remove the dishes when you've finished and then I'll clean your room. Madeline should be here in a half an hour." Again Tom nodded since his mouth was filled with egg this time.

* * *

"Ouch!" Hermione protest. She was sitting at a rather enormous vanity in Rodmilla's room while the Duchess sat holding up necklace and earring pairs, one after the other, trying to get the bride to decide on one while Janette, Rodmilla's niece, pulled and yanked a brush through Hermione's hair.

"I am sorree," she apologized for the umpteenth time in fifteen minutes as she pulled tiny wire bristles from Hermione's hair.

The Hogwarts Head Girl flinched, although it was not because Janette began ripping the brush through her hair again, but because she was starting to get a splitting headache, and Janette's Fleur-like accent wasn't helping the situation any. In fact, it only served to aggravate Hermione more, and she desperately wished that she could just be left alone to take care of the mess on her own.

Hermione grumbled something as Janette groaned and threw the brush over her shoulder, startling Mary and Janessa, who were grooming Rodmilla's dogs, which yipped and snarled at the thrown object.

"'Er 'air eez... just so-"

"Why not let me handle it," Hermione griped in a commanding tone rather than a questioning one before picking up a comb and picking at the knots. She winced and cursed under her breath as she untangled one frizzy ball after the other. "There," she finally sighed, laying down the comb while her head gave an enormous throb. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes as Janette ran her fingers through Hermione's now soft and smooth hair.

"Much better!" Janette praised as she grabbed a small metal container whose contents chinked and rattled. She opened it and began sticking bobby pins between her lips as she started pulling Hermione's hair into all sorts of loops, twists, and buns.

"Nothing too extravagant, okay?" Hermione advised somewhat fearfully. She worried that her hair might end up piled a foot off her head and in a million bows and flowers.

* * *

"Sir?" a young servant girl of no more than fourteen called as she peeked into the room where Tom was bathing.

He turned and looked at her, a towel hanging about his hips and water beaded on his chest. She immediately swallowed and turned a bright, glowing strawberry color as she bowed her head and stared at the garments in her hands.

"If you're finished, the King has had your suit for the wedding brought to your room as well as your boots and badges, which have been freshly polished," she informed. "Here are some newly cleaned underclothes and a robe for you to put on until you get to your room." She laid the things on a chair by the door and then excused herself, her head still bowed as she turned quickly and scurried from the room.

Riddle crossed the room, removed the towel and dabbed himself dry, and then adorned the thin, cool, white attire. He grimaced at the thought of how stupid he must look in the form-fitting tights and tight, starched button-up. Shaking his head, he pulled on the robe and left the room for his own private quarters.

When he entered, he found the bed already made, his things laid upon them in and orderly fashion. He shut the door, shook off the robe, and tossed it onto a coat hanger by the wardrobe. He grabbed his slacks, pulling them on over his underclothes and leaving them unbuttoned as he thrust his feet swiftly into his gleaming black boots. He buckled them and stood, doing up the tie and button to his pants as someone knocked at the door.

"Come in," he called, not bothering to look at the door as he pulled on the jacket and began buttoning the fastenings.

The door flowed open without a peep from its aged hinges, the King studying Tom as he finished dressing and grabbed his badges to place them on the left breast of his uniform. Clearing his throat, the older of the two stepped further into the room, past the doorway, and shifted the fine oak box in his hand. Looking up, Riddle paused and waited for his visitor to speak.

"I see that the servants have everything in hand," he announced as he crossed the room, tucking the box under his arm before he straightened Tom's collar. "This suit is a fine fit on you. I must commend the tailor when I next see him."

Riddle still had yet to speak as he watched the other man shift the box and give it a good hard look before thrusting it at his future-son-in-law and heir.

"What's this?" the young groom asked as he held the box and eyed the King with a questioning, but respectful gaze.

"My wife's father passed it on to me, as he had no sons of his own, and now I'm passing it to you. I wore it only on special occasions... my wedding, my coronation, my first day as king, and at the birthing of my Ana. I hope you'll wear it for all your purposeful events as well."

Letting his brow furrow, Tom stared at the King for another moment as the man glanced somewhat anxiously from Riddle to the box and back again. Gaze sliding to the gift, Tom opened it and was surprised to see a brightly shining white leather belt with gold buckle and sword sheath fastening.

"Thank you, your majesty," Riddle murmured, removing the present from its case and disposing the wooden box upon his bed as he undid the buckle on the belt he was already wearing. He pulled the black leather strap off with ease and began threading the new white one through in the old one's place.

"You'll be needing this," the King informed as he grabbed the sword, which was inside its white gold sheath. The older of the two slid it through the fastening on Tom's belt and stood back to admire the look. "Let's hope it fits you longer than it did myself," the King chuckled as he heave a sigh and sat upon Tom's bed for a moment of silence.

Riddle was unsure of just what he should say, but he didn't have to ponder it long as the King began speaking again.

"You know, I came here to talk to you about more than just this belt," he muttered solemnly. "I want to address the matter of my daughter... and your future responsibilities together."

"Your majest-"

"Please," the King continued, holding up a hand to halt the interruption, "let me finish. My Ana is not as fragile as many would think, believe me I know... but that doesn't mean she doesn't need just as much love and care, if not more, than others. She's a special girl, with whom not only comes love and a lifelong companionship through marriage, but also a great deal of responsibilities. Upon your marriage and my resignation of the throne, the country is going to look to you for guidance and ruling, so do what you must with a peaceful mind and a peaceful heart. Let both be steady and sure, strong-willed and smart, and only think of my Ana and this country as well as your future children before deciding on something completely."

"I understand."

"I thought you would... Now, I've said my honest advice and previously given my blessing, so I'll alert you that the coach waiting to take you to the church will be arriving in a few moments. Now hurry." Rising, the King huffed out a labored breath and walked with regal determination toward the door. He left, and Riddle dropped onto the bed in his place, pondering if the King had addressed Hermione and what he might have said to her.

* * *

Hermione pulled back the deep crimson curtains of the carriage an inch and glanced out at the church as her ride slowed to a stop. It was a tall building of bronze-colored brick. She wondered how she couldn't have seen it from the castle before with its enormous steeple which housed an intimidatingly large bell. Some gray pigeons spotted the edge of the tower windows, and Hermione fervently wished that she could be as they were when one took flight and two more followed. Sighing, she wondered where Tom was and how he was doing.

"Nervous, my darling daughter?" asked the King from beside her.

She turned her head and found that she couldn't respond; her voice had left her in the moments of realization brought on by the stop of the carriage. She could now hear the sound of people gathered outside, calling their best wishes, love, adoration, and praises to her.

The King smiled warmly, encouragingly as he took in the beauty of the young girl he thought to be his daughter. It brought a tear to his eye as he glanced her flawless face, her elegant hair pulled into its bun with a crown of gems made to look like lilies, and her innocent glow in her wedding gown.

"I am so proud of you, Ana," he uttered softly.

She nodded and jumped a little as a thud sounded outside the carriage door and the crowd started to grow silent. The handle of the coach turned and clicked, and the King slid from his seat to exit the coach first.

"It's time, love," he said as he peered back inside.

Hermione's stomach clenched and did an odd somersault that made her breath come with a hitch. She felt sick as she slid forward on the seat and gave her white, elbow-length gloved hand to the King. Hermione grabbed some of the fabric near her knees and pulled her skirt hem to her ankles as she stepped out onto the wooden pedestal. It took nearly all her willpower not to clamber back into the carriage as awed eyes and bright faces gazed at her in reverence.

The King laced his left arm through her right and clutched her right hand in his left. She squeeze his arm, and she felt him shake a bit as he tried to suppress a chuckle with no success.

"Relax," he whispered as her eyes anxiously darted from left to right among the crowd. That's when she spotted something that made her heart leap into her throat and almost gag her.

She did a double take and saw a young man in the crowd who looked remarkably like Tom at first glance. As she stared at him, she noticed that his nose was slightly thinner and more pointed and that his hair was a lighter shade of dark brown instead of onyx like Riddle's. He seemed to be a bit taller, too, but other than those few differences, he was the young Dark Lord's double.

She tried to remain externally composed as she looked away, but on the inside, her nerves were doing odd dances as they tingled uncontrollably. Her stomach felt as though she had just jumped from a hundred feet or more with no parachute, and her chest felt as though she had swallowed an entire bucket of ice. She shivered slightly, despite the warm sun upon her, and became even more panic-stricken when she heard her name being called, or rather that of the Princess.

"Anastasia! Princess Anastasia! Princess Ana!" It was Riddle's double. He was pushing his way through the front of the crowd; he was obviously trying to keep parallel with Hermione and the King as he begged their attention. "Your majesty!"

Hermione prayed that the King would keep his eyes straight ahead as they started up the large stairs of the church. She felt her insides jolt as the bell overheard rang once and then twice. She let out an inaudible sigh of relief as they rang a third time and drown out the shouting young man, who, as Hermione looked back over her shoulder and saw, had been pushed back by curious Londoners as they tried to crowd the entrance and stained glass windows to watch the wedding.

Hermione felt somewhat less worried about the wedding now as she silently feared the interruption of the young man, which would in turn reveal that she and Tom were, in fact, frauds. What would they do to them if they found out that Hermione and Tom weren't who they had been pretending to be all this time? Would they hang? Would they have to make a hasty getaway to Bluffshire and risk exposure of the magical world?

She bowed her head and shook it slightly to rid herself of the thoughts as a procession of young women in flowing golden and silver dresses began following the King and herself towards the altar. Hermione tried not to look up at Tom because she knew that he would be able to read her panic at once and possibly mistake it for regret upon the wedding. That was one of the last things that she needed; she didn't need to make enemies with him or have quarrels pop up.

Before she knew it, they had passed the many rows of pews and were stopping before three stairs. It was now that Hermione noticed the music of a violin, piano, and harp. The sound produced by them wasn't the traditional wedding march, but it was a sweet, melodic, and soft tune that reminded her of something that would be played during a summer romance scene in a movie.

The King released her hand and pulled his arm from her own, fear sparkling in her eyes as he did so. He gripped her shoulders, kissed each of her cheeks, and lingered for a moment at her left ear as he whispered to her.

"Your mother would be so proud." He sniffled and turned to the right to walk to a raise platform upon which sat Mima, her family, Hermione's ladies in waiting, the Duke, and the Duchess.

Hermione turned away from the group as the King sat and took the handkerchiefs offered to him by the Duke and Mima. Hermione bit at the inside of her lip as she placed her foot upon the first stair, inwardly feeling apprehension against taking those last few steps to Tom, the altar, and the church official. Her feet barely touched even the edge of the three stairs as she ascended and then took the last two steps to Tom. He glanced at her in an expressionless way before turning back to the priest who began a Latin chant in an echoing voice. He crossed the air above them, and they both knelt as rustles of garments from the gathering behind them let them know that everyone had leaned forward and were now bowing their heads.

Hermione felt her legs quiver, and she worried that she wouldn't be able to get back up off the garnet and gold pillow on which she now knelt. A prayer escaped the stern lips of the priest as she and Tom kept their heads bowed. Riddle shifted, his shoulder brushing hers as he muttered to her while the pray was echoed by the watchers of the wedding.

"You look beautiful."

Her cheeks twinged, and a smirk perked the left side of his mouth as they sat up straight and then rose. Tom assisted Hermione and kept a tight hold on her hands with his as the church official began reciting the vows.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered together here in the sign of God – and in the face of this company – to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore – is not by any – to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined."

Hermione felt her throat become like sandpaper as she thought about the words while the priest continued in his loud, dry, echoing drone. She recalled to mind the words 'honorable among all men' and 'is not by any – to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly'. Was she taking this lightly? Her stomach lurched, and she decided that she certainly wasn't. But was Tom?

"This occasion marks the celebration of love and commitment with which this man and this woman begin their life together. And now – through me – He joins you together in one of the holiest bonds," the priest continued as Hermione tuned back in to what he was saying.

Hermione looked to Riddle and saw that he was staring at the official with a glazed-eyed look. Was he even paying attention to what was being said? Was this, to Riddle, all just as they had said earlier? An act? The longer Hermione thought about it, the more she felt sick. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she swallowed against the dry, constricting lump in her throat. It wasn't an act to her. She was taking what the priest said seriously; that's how marriage vows were meant to be taken. To her, this was real.

"These moments are so meaningful to all of us, for what greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined together – to strengthen each other in all labor – to minister to each other in all sorrow – to share with each other in all gladness," the priest called to Hermione, Tom, and the church at large. "This relationship stands for love, loyalty, honesty and trust, but most of all for friendship. Before they knew love, they were friends, and it was from this seed of friendship that is their destiny. Do not think that you can direct the course of love – for love, if it finds you worthy, shall direct you."

Riddle felt something pull at his heart after these words. It was as though his pump of life was snagged by a hook on a fisherman's line and was being dragged off out of Riddle's reach to where he had no control over it. Tom glanced to Hermione as though she were the one holding the reel which had cast this line, and instead, saw her gazing fixedly at their joined hands. The confused look upon her face and the words that had recently escaped the priest's mouth made him ponder their relationship.

Was this love? Had they been friends? He had never really, truly known friendship. He had those around him who had promised their loyalty, but they weren't friends. They were merely disgusting followers who were trying to watch out for their own backs. None of them had really cared for him as Hermione had. She had nursed him back to health, fought him with such passion where others would never have dared even look at him in a defiant manner. Love was obviously the courage that fired that passion. And most importantly, she had drawn forth feelings in him, like the one that had just occurred, when no one else had even done anything remotely like that.

It was in that instant that Tom realized that Hermione was and would be a friend to him when he needed it. He also realized that he felt something even deeper than friendship for her. The feelings she had stirred in him the night before when he kissed her both at her bedroom door and inside her bedroom had been completely foreign to him. The arousal was hot like fire, sparking at his limbs, muscle, veins, and brain. It had been enjoyable and frightening all at the same time. But had she felt the same? Was she feeling the same right now? Was this real to her, too?

The sudden announcement of Tom's name from the priest drew him quickly from his reverie, and he glanced at the older man who was standing beside him and Hermione.

"Do you Aramis D'Artagnan take Anastasia Marionette, Princess of England, to be your wife – to live together after God's ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon her your heart's deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?"

Tom thought for a split second, recalling some of the words of the promise just asked of him. '_Love her? Comfort her? Honor and keep her? To cherish and continually bestow upon her your heart's deepest devotion? Forsaking all others? Keep yourself only unto her?_' He thought through those words again, the silent, anxious waiting of the church seemingly on pause to him, but not to Hermione who feared the split second pause.

"I will," Riddle finally answered in a calm, serious, and surprisingly truthful tone.

"Do you Anastasia Marionette, Princess of England, take Aramis D'Artagnan to be your husband – to live together after God's ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your heart's deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?"

"I will," Hermione repeated Tom without even a thought of pausing.

From behind Tom came Arthos with a silver platter resting on his palms. He held it up to the priest who grabbed two small, golden rings from tray. They were unmarked, but shone brightly in the sun that filtered into the high windows.

"May these rings be blessed as a symbol of this affectionate unity. These two lives are now joined in one unbroken circle. Wherever they go – may they always return to one another. May these two find in each other the love for which all men and women yearn. May they grow in understanding and in compassion. May the home which they establish together be such a place that many will find there a friend."

The priest handed both Tom and Hermione a ring and nodded his approval for them to slip them on the other's finger.

"May these rings on their fingers," the priest called as Tom finished placing his on Hermione's finger. She grabbed his hand and held the ring between her fingertips. "Symbolize the touch of the spirit of love in their hearts," the priest finished as Hermione looked meaningfully into Riddle's eyes and finished pushing the band into place. "May the rings represent a promise to one another that will forever remain unbroken – a promise of love, devotion, friendship, affection, and honesty."

The last words of the priest were garbled as Hermione became lost in the look that Tom was giving her. It was pure. It was honest. Overall, it was loving, affectionate, and promising. Doubts dissolved, and her heart lifted as the cheers of those around them sounded. She suddenly became aware of the fact that he had drawn her close to him. Her eyes glittered and a smile danced over her features as he lowered his mouth to hers in a simple, tender kiss that extracted a joyous wail from the Duchess and a whistle from Arthos.


	40. A Wedding Night Ruined

**A/N: **So I underestimated a bit and didn't know that I had as much as I did left in me to write for this story. I decided - at 12 pages on what I had originally wrote - to half this chapter up into 40 and 41. I had only intended it to be 40 chapters, as many of you know, but it was just entirely too long to be one chapter. Hope that doesn't annoy too many of you. Now, the thanks and then the chapter. Thanks to: _katrin4p, Youko-sama, the. dead. addict., Gueneviere, blindfaithoperadiva, Hater-of-heartless-critics, Autumn's-Smile, evilangel-001, Skavnema, ebonyquill, Vera-Sabe, sarahyyy, ellamalfoy8, fatcakes, 113crc, KoolAidNightmare, Barranca, Jenny-Beth, Charmanth, Alana84, NovelGurl,_ and_ Just Bee 26. _And finally, as I said, the chapter...

* * *

**Chapter 40 – A Wedding Night Ruined**

"What are you babbling about?" Tom hissed as he held Hermione by her elbows, willing her to calm herself. "Say it again... this time slowly."

She sighed and shook her head.

"We have to find that guy."

"What guy?" Riddle asked.

"He looks incredibly like you," she explained. "He's a bit taller with lighter hair and a thinner, more pointed nose, but he looks exactly like you otherwise."

"And his looking as I do is a crime?" Tom inquired somewhat confusedly.

"No!" she breathed in exasperation. "Don't you realize who he is?" When Tom shook his head, she threw up her arms in exasperation, knocking his hands away from her. "He's the real Aramis," she snarled through gritted teeth. Realization dawned on Riddle's face, and he suddenly got a distant look in his eyes as he began formulating a plan.

"Okay," he muttered, "okay. We need to... we need to find him. Where did you say you last saw him?"

"When we were leaving the church. He was in the crowd, trying to shove his way to the front and bellowing to us. I'm surprised that you didn't see or hear him."

"It was a little hard over the bells," Riddle snipped. "But that's irrelevant right now. We need to find him. Surely he'll try to sneak in with the entertainers for tonight... if he's smart, that is."

"I just hope that he doesn't raise any sort of alarm," Hermione fretted. "And what do we do with him once we spot him?"

"We'll need to lure him away from everyone. I could Imperius him to do that," Tom plotted. "And then we'll need to erase his memory and send him away."

"But what if he spots us first and causes a commotion?" she presented. "In fact, what if he's in town right now causing a riot?"

"It wouldn't be in his favor to do that," Riddle dismissed. "He'll wait until he can corner us and prove that he's right. At least that's what I would do."

"All right, but what happens when he gets one up on us and corners us? What if he reveals that he's the real Aramis and-"

"We'll just have to be alert enough to see him first. That's all there is to it."

Hermione had a bad feeling about this plan, and her doubt couldn't be more unnerving.

* * *

Riddle glanced around. The night was growing late, and the festivities had been moved inside for the draw of gnats, mosquitoes, and other flesh eating bugs and pests. Not to mention most of the people were getting ready to leave, yet something bothered Tom immensely. The real Aramis had not bothered to show his face and there was no sign of usurping in the slightest. There had been no whispers of an odd young man in town and certain no sign of oddment in the entertainers that would suggest he was disguised as one.

Turning to Hermione, who was latched to his left arm, Riddle leaned towards her and whispered in her ear.

"Have you see any sign of disturbance or noticed the man again?" he inquired, making a shiver run the length of her spine as his breath warmed the already burning skin of her ear.

"Not the slightest," she muttered back. "And it's growing hot and tiresome in here... not to mention I can no longer stand the smell of alcohol."

The room had taken on the odor of a dirty bar tavern from the drink after drink that had been poured. Vodka, champagne, wine, rum, and other foul stenched beverages that brought on drunken states and merriment in the wedding party guests. Hermione had even glimpsed the Count and Countess Montagu as the Count became sick and deposited the contents of his stomach into a vase out in the hallway. Hermione grimaced at the thought and shook her head.

"Your face is the brightest shade of red I've ever seen," Riddle announced to her in slight worry as she huffed out a breath, tried to shift herself in her dress, and dabbed sweat from her brow with a lace handkerchief she had been given by Mary earlier. "How about some fresh air."

"And a change of clothes," Hermione suggested.

They had no more than glanced at the door to the ballroom when the King, who was quite tipsy and hiccuping his every sentence, stood from his seat at the head of the hall beside the Duke and called attention to him.

"To my-" a hiccup, "daughter and-" hiccup, "son-in-law." Another hiccup escaped him, and he began falling to the right, only to be caught by the very unsteady Duke and some servants as eyes turned to Hermione and Tom.

"That's the fifteenth toast he's made to us," Tom murmured to her through clenched jaw as he forced a smile.

Everyone stared for only a moment as their attention was drawn back to the King who called for more liquor to be brought out from the cellar's supplies. A vase in the corner of the room was knocked over as Mary and Janessa laughed loudly and playfully batted at twin soldiers. The attention was then turned again to the King, who roared out the chorus of some unknown song which he didn't even seem to know the words to, but was soon joined by the Duke, Count Montagu, and others.

Hermione and Tom saw this as their chance to slip from the room without notice. However, neither had figured that the King would call for them to join in.

"Ana! You remember this so- Ana? Child, where are you going?" boomed his majesty.

"Uh... we were just going to get some fresh air," Hermione called back.

"Ah ha, yes!" her pretend father laughed rapturously. "Fresh air," he echoed with a snort and an elbow to the Duke's side, causing him to slosh his drink down the front of him. "Then do not let me stop you! I should enjoy the grandchildren that will come of this night!"

Hermione, had she been better prepared, might not have choked on the air she was breathing as those words fell from the King's mouth. Her heart stopped and then immediately began to beat frantically against her chest as though something was about to plunge a knife in it. She glanced to Tom who seemed to have stopped breathing altogether. His face was a bright shade of hot pink, and his ears rivaled the color of a supremely ripe tomato. She forced a lopsided grin to those around them and grabbed Tom's sleeve as he seemed rooted to the spot, catcalls following them as she pulled him from the room.

Once out in the hall, she shivered and shook herself from the thought and the malodorous stench of the room. Riddle, on the other hand, had pressed his face to the wall in an attempt to cool the heat that had rushed to his cheeks and ears. He slanted his head against the cool stone and glanced at her as another garbled song began to drift merrily from the drunks in the ballroom. She returned his gaze and soon found herself fighting a smile; it was a fruitless attempt though as a smirk spread her face into brilliant gaiety. Shortly after, she found her shoulders shaking with the attempt not to laugh.

Tom pushed himself away from the wall as she let out a ringing peal of laughter that echoed the length of the corridor. He stared at her as though she had something growing from the tip of her nose as she bent forward and began clutching her sides as she laughed some more.

"You're as mad and drunk as that old fool in the room," Riddle administered as she tried to stand, but found herself unable as another bout of laughter overcame her and she began slapping her knee in obvious amusement.

"Your," she chuckled out. "Your... face!"

"What?" he snapped.

"Your face," she managed again as she stood and wiped away a tear or two. "It was... it was the most vivid shade of coral I've ever seen."

"Oh yes, very funny," he uttered as he rolled his eyes, but his efforts to look displeased were short lived as the infectious smile on her face spread to his. He snickered at the memory of the King stumbling about the platform on which his throne was and soon found himself joking with her about the guests as they linked arms and headed for her bedroom.

By the time they reached her quarters, both were breathless and unaware of the shadow-clinging guest who had trailed them since they left the corridor outside the ballroom.

Hermione pushed open the door and stepped inside, unhindered as Riddle followed and dropped down onto the bed. He kicked off his boots and removed the badges from his jacket as she began rummaging in her wardrobe for a comfortable dress. She flipped past hanging garment after hanging garment, the glimmer of the ring on her left hand finally catching her attention. She stared at it and then looked back over her shoulder at Tom. He was laying on his back on the bed, his legs dangling over the edge as he tossed his badge into the air and caught it, much like a cat frolicking with a ball.

She bit down on her lip and continued to gaze at him for a moment, and she found that the longer she looked at him, the more she wanted to talk to him about their marriage. Was it real? Did he take into consideration the vows as much as she had? Was he all right with pretending? Would it disappear if and when they got back to the future? Her heart gave a terrible pang, and she sighed as she crossed to her vanity and sat down.

She looked up into the mirror to see that he was propped up onto his elbows and staring at her reflection as she stared at his. He had stopped tossing his badge about and had a serious, yet kindly contemplating expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" he questioned carefully, his voice the tone a mourner would use with someone who had just lost a close friend or family member. Did he think she was mourning herself for the situation she was in with him?

"Is it," she began, but found herself tongue-tied and losing courage to confront him about her thoughts and his. She sighed and removed her gaze from the mirror to the surface of the vanity before her.

Her hands laid there delicately, and she found herself marveling at the difference she would have once seen in them if she had been at Hogwarts right now. They would have been covered with darkening spots on the fingertips and sides from ink due to writing essay after essay for her as well as Ron and Harry. They might have even had a bandage or two from Potions where she might have cut her finger while preparing ingredients. But never had she imagined that they would look so frail and pale, thin, delicate, and unlike her own. She certainly had never imagined that she would be seventeen and wearing a wedding band.

"Is what?" he inquired, and she became aware that he had removed himself from the bed and closed the distance between them. His hands brushed her shoulders and gave a comforting squeeze as she tried to rebuild her courage.

Meanwhile, neither were aware of the eyes that watched them so intently from the shadows outside the door that stood ajar.

"Is this... this marriage... Is it real?" she finally quizzed. "Is it real to you?"

"To me?" he repeated, catching the significance in those two simple words.

He inhaled deeply and moved to her left side, kneeling and looking up at her profile. It hit him suddenly that she was his wife now. But did she consider him her husband? Was that why she had ask? '_No. You know why she asked. She asked you if it was real as though she were hurt by the thought of you thinking it wasn't. You had thought about those words carefully today before saying '_I will_', so why shouldn't it be real?_' he thought to himself.

"I meant what I said today, Hermione," he uttered softly, taking one of her hands in his and raising the other to touch her chin. He turned her face to him and stared at her with eyes of ebony truth. "I meant everything. I will love you, comfort you, honor you, keep you, cherish and forsake all others for you." Tears welled in her eyes. "I promise you that I will."

"No matter what?" she pleaded weepily.

"No matter what," he promised with a nod of his head and an affectionate rub of her chin.

She grabbed the hand that held hers with both of her own now and gave it a squeeze as tears danced at the corners of her eyes, mere seconds from falling as the door to her bedroom creaked open fully.

Her head snapped around as Riddle jumped to his feet. They both stared as though seeing as ghost as Aramis, the real one, walked into the room with Porthos behind him.

"Sorry to intrude upon your sentimental moment, dear Princess, or should I say... what was it he called her?" Porthos inquired as he brandished a pistol at the couple before him and glanced to his accomplice.

"Hermione?" offered Aramis, his voice instantly striking up mistrust in Hermione's heart as fear laced through her body.

The intruders were both holding weapons, Porthos a pistol and Aramis a sword, and they were now closing the bedroom door.

"Imagine my surprise," Porthos began as he stepped further into the room, "as I lay in a hospital bed, my injuries slowly healing," here he gestured to his side, the clothes there bulking from bandages. "And lo and behold, who should happen upon my bedside but Aramis?" Porthos gave a laugh and looked to the young man beside him with his dark brown hair and thin, protruding nose.

"I must confess that he wasn't happy to see me," Aramis picked up. "I mean, we had our rivalries as boys, but his hatred towards me was astonishing. I who had helped he and his father countless times by ridding ourselves of pestilential servants and even that satanic witch from town. So... I thought he was mad with fever and demanded to see his father, the General."

Porthos sneered at Riddle at the mention of General Mardon. It would seem that the blond-haired son of the corrupt military leader had caught wind of Tom's defeat of his father on the cliffs of Siren Hollow.

"I was very much in shock to hear that the good General was, in fact, dead and supposedly by my own hand," Aramis continued as he stepped towards the bed and flicked the comforter with the tip of his sword, cutting the fabric open. Hermione paled at the thought of what it might do to flesh. "I denied this accusation fervently, and Porthos began thinking that I was fevered. He asked me why I was not at the church getting married to my precious Princess. I had no idea I was to be betrothed, so I left to find out for myself."

Hermione felt herself growing steadily sicker as Aramis began his recount of seeing her and the King entering the church and then she and Tom exiting the same place. He scoffed his congratulations while Porthos growled menacingly like a rabid dog held by a fast breaking chain. It would seem he was about to snap at any moment.

"When Aramis returned," Porthos resumed as Aramis laughed and stared at his double who was angered by a rather crude comment made towards Hermione, "I began to take in the changes in his appearance. I'm sure you see them even yourself. I realized then that the Aramis who was marrying the Princess that day was, in fact, an impostor. To further my belief in this miraculous conclusion, the real Aramis," here he gestured to his evil companion who was fixedly regarding Hermione with a fascinated and scary sort of stare, "regaled me with the tale of how he murdered the real Princess and her lover, the baker's son."

"It was quite entertaining. Shall I relay it to you as well?" Aramis interjected with a merciless laugh as Hermione felt her eyes go wide with fear and her lip quiver. The real Princess was dead; the poor King, if he knew, it would break his generous heart. "I tracked them for quite some time," Aramis began when no one objected to his retelling of the tale. "Weeks even. Finally, I caught up with them outside some little church in a forest-surrounded town. I stalked them silently as they took up residence in a barn, and the baker's son began trying his luck at working for a baker in that village."

Riddle shifted his weight, and Porthos aimed his pistol with a steadier hand and narrowed eyes as though to tell Tom to remain still and not even think about retaliating.

"I watched for a night or two while they sat as lovebirds in their cage of a barn, talking of the future and the children that they were to have. I had heard enough to last a lifetime, so I burst in and put a bullet to the young man's head. Of course the Princess squealed her head off and cried over his lifeless body as she pleaded for her own life and begged to know why I had killed her one true love. I laughed and taunted her for a while with the tale of how Porthos and the General were back at her castle home, posed to poison the King and overthrow the throne. She cried and pleaded with me to leave her father alone, but I just laughed and served her the same fate as her lover."

Hermione's body convulsed, and she felt bile rise in her throat. She was sitting in the room with a man who made her skin crawl as he talked about his merciless murder as one would talk about getting perfect marks on a school project.

"It was quite a scene that farmer found the next morning when he brought them breakfast. Their bodies surrounded in a pool of crimson straw and blood. The back of their heads blo-"

"Enough!" Riddle shouted as Hermione turned her head and winced from the foul image Aramis was putting into her head.

"I wonder if the King and the servants will be as sick and startled when we do it to you two," Aramis snickered manically. Riddle couldn't believe that he had once murdered just as carelessly as this man; it was apparent then that Hermione had made a conscience grow in Tom.

Hermione's fingers fumbled at her sleeve as they rested in her lap. If she could just get her wand from inside the arm of her dress and get a firm grip on it, she would take Porthos out because he posed the most threat to them with his pistol. Then surely Riddle could brandish his own sword and battle with Aramis long enough for her to make sure Porthos was out and then rid themselves of the other nuisance.

"Who shall we get rid of first?" Aramis inquired of Porthos.

"I want to get my hands on your impostor to avenge my father," Porthos grumbled through clenched jaw as he glared daggers at Tom. "But we mustn't do it here; the noise will draw far too much attention, and we run risk of being heard."

"Fine. We'll take them into the woods near Siren Hollow Cliffs. You can kill that sorry bastard, and I can have my _wedding night_ with Princess Hermione," Aramis plotted with a sadistic grin as he glanced the length of Hermione's body.

Riddle's nostrils flared and his jaw became taut as he looked upon the real Aramis with pure hatred. Tom shook his arm as though angered, but he was really trying to remove his wand from his sleeve. He thanked Merlin that Hermione sat before him, hiding his efforts to loose his weapon.

"Find something to tie them with," Porthos ordered as he kept his gun trained on the couple at the vanity.

Aramis nodded and turned his back, and as soon as he had, both Tom and Hermione raised their wands in the blink of an eye and cast their curses.

"_Stupefy!_" Hermione and Tom cast in unison. Two jets of red lightning-like light shot from their wandtips and blasted Porthos from his feet. His pistol fell to the floor as he hit the wall behind him with a tremendous force.

Aramis whipped around and pointed his sword out in front of him, instantly bewildered by the fact that his partner was unconscious, slumped against the wall as Tom and Hermione stood aiming two long, thin, wooden rods at him.

"What did you do to him?" Aramis demanded as Tom stepped past Hermione and held out his wandless hand as though to hold her back and shield her from harm.

"_Serpensortia!_" snarled Riddle as he gripped his wand tighter and grit his teeth.

A gun-metal gray snake burst from the end of the wand, and Aramis instantly dropped his arm to his side, the sword clattering to the floor as his face dawned an awed looked.

"What d'you... what's... how d'you?" stammered Aramis as he held up his hands to shield himself from the snake as it slithered across the floor and started to raise itself up, ready to strike. "Make it go away!" shouted the real Aramis D'Artagnan.

Tom just smirked nastily and watched with pleasure as the eight foot, slithering stalker struck out to intimidate its prey. Apparently it was working because Aramis stammered more foolishly, the color draining from his face.

"Make it go away!" he repeated in a terrified tone as the snake did a sort of dance with its head and sized him up. Aramis stamped his foot at the creature, hoping to make it turn tail and move away from him, but it only hissed angrily.

"Careful," Tom warned. "Don't upset it. You wouldn't want such a beautiful creature to see you as a threat. She's a Black Mamba, named for the color on the inside of her mouth, but her victims wouldn't know that. Most don't live because she's one of the largest, most venomous snakes in the world."

Hermione felt terror grow in her as she drew her legs up onto the vanity seat with her while the thin, gray beast hissed as though in a trance. Riddle chuckled darkly and aimed his wand at Aramis.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," Tom whispered as though taunting Aramis with the knowledge of what those two words meant. However, the frightened young man soon found out as his limbs clung to his body, and he tottered, unbalanced by the sudden drawing in and constricting of his body.

He toppled forward onto the floor, and the Black Mamba hissed loudly in a mad fit as it lunged forward and attached itself to the petrified neck of Aramis. Hermione gasped and turned her head quickly as Tom bid the snake to do something in Parseltongue. Hermione heard Aramis groan three more times, and when she peeked over her shoulder, she saw three more wounds that weeped red tears.

"Riddle, please!" Hermione begged as Tom started to hiss out more directions.

He turned and saw the ghostly pale color of her skin as she shook and sat with wide, unblinking eyes of pure horror. He pointed his wand silently at the snake, and it incinerated on the spot beside Aramis who now lay moaning, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as a sweat broke out onto his body and something disgusting leaked from the corner of his mouth.

"Are you all right?" Tom inquired as he looked away from his handiwork and back to Hermione, who was trying to stand, but was too shaky to manage without holding onto the vanity.

He noticed now the odd color of her skin. She had been deathly white a moment ago, but now she was growing to be a moldy sort of gray. She looked like death was at the doorstep of her life, about to enter the house. He stepped closer and grabbed her hand as he looked her over for any sign of injury. Surely nothing had happened to her, right? She had been sitting within his watch. He was sure she hadn't been shot; the handgun had never fired. He was certain she hadn't been stabbed or bitten, and he could see nothing that said otherwise anywhere on her body.

"Hermione, what's the matter?" he asked, his voice somewhat frantic as he looked into her eyes; they were no longer the gorgeous chocolate brown he enjoyed, but a light, honey brown as though fading.

He squeezed her hands; they were warm and that was a good sign. Tom touched her cheek and saw something at alarmed him even further. He, too, was becoming an odd shade of grayish skin. He held out his hand in front of him and felt his stomach do an odd flip as he realized that he could see the light through his hand. But wasn't that impossible.

"Her-mi-nee," his voice faltered and sounded weird to him, almost as though it were clouded by static and unnecessary, unwanted breaks in syllables and sentences.

"Tom!" Hermione shrieked, her voice echoing as everything went black. It would seem that they had both passed out.


	41. Where Loyalty Lies

**A/N:** A quick thank you to all for both patience and reviewing: _GitaMerah, katrin4p, maximum-calories, Skavnema, Hater-of-heartless-critics, PapayaCrazy, Youko-sama, echo9821, the. dead. addict., Joou Himeko Dah, Talenyn01, Jenny-Beth, emeraldice77, Megan Consoer, Deceptive Fates, Autumn's-Smile, Seed-of-Flame, ilo3645, evilangel-001, Just Bee 26, ellamalfoy8, ebonyquill, blindfaithoperadiva, fatcakes, Alana84, Charmanth, NovelGurl, Barranca, Vera-Sabe, sarahyyy, libaka, marauder'sbabe, girlwholuvsallthemenintwilight, KoolAidNightmare, 113crc, nehimasgift, rupertgrintlovesmeandonlyme, The daughter of Slytherin, irene0222, _and _Tears of Ebon-Grey._

I cannot believe that I've gotten over 800 reviews for this! Thanks again everyone, and I apologize that this took SO long to write. I hope that you've enjoyed it; I know I did because y'all made it that way! By the way... there will be NO sequel to this, lol.

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**Chapter 41 – Where Loyalty Lies**

Hermione was aware of people talking around her. Their voices were garbled by gasps, hurried whispers, and the fall of quickened footsteps.

"Miss Granger? Miss Granger!"

Hermione rolled her head to the side, trying all too fruitlessly to shake the pounding and blood-rushing sounds from her head. She thought she had heard Professor McGonagall's voice calling to her, but that was impossible. Wasn't it? '_Open your eyes!_' she willed herself, but she was partly afraid of doing so. What if it turned out to be just another taunting dream?

A loud, rumbling sort of bang shook the rough surface that Hermione was laying on, and she heard someone groan beside her.

"Who's he?" asked Parvati Patil. But it couldn't really be Hermione's Gryffindor roommate, could it?

"Miss Granger, please, wake up!" pleaded Professor McGonagall. "Miss Brown, take both Miss Patils with you and find Professor Dumbledore. Once you've told him that Miss Granger has been found, please inform some house-elves that we'll be needing their assistance. Do it quickly before the wards break free."

Hermione thought about what her Transfiguration teacher said over and over again. She had been found. Lavender was to bring the Headmaster and some elves. She needed to wake up. '_No, it will go away!_' she frantically tried to dissuade herself.

"Hermione." It was the dreamy, distant tone of Luna Lovegood. "I only wish that I had some butterbeer and a few Billywigs. I could make an antidote for your sleep-like state. This is often the result when one is trapped in a place near Blibbering Humdingers."

"Miss Lovegood, please," Professor McGonagall grumbled in an exasperated way as she grabbed Hermione by the shoulders. The touch was so warm, real, and somehow stiff. It had to be more than a dream; Hermione was certain now. "Take to keeping watch at the windows." There was a pause as Luna left Hermione's side.

"That boy is stirring again," informed someone from near where Hermione's head lay.

That boy? What boy? Another groan and the grip of a familiar hand on Hermione's wrist gave her the answer. Tom.

"Hermione," he whispered gruffly. His voice was muffled by something, almost as though he were talking into a wall or pillow.

Turning her head, Hermione forced her eyes open. Things were dark, but flashes of red, green, white, and blue lit every few seconds as though there were fireworks outside. She noticed that Tom was beside her, face down on a very well-known floor, and a bedpost of even more familiar wood was just on the other side of him. The Gryffindor seventh year girls' dorm. Hermione's head turned slowly as a warming sensation spread through her; she blinked up at the Deputy Headmistress and felt tears spring forth in her eyes. She was home in 1997 finally.

"Miss Granger, we thought you were gone for sure; never to return," McGonagall confessed with wide-eyed concern as footsteps echoed up the staircase to the dorm.

The door opened and in rushed Dumbledore; his robes looked highly out of place for such a dark and serious time with their periwinkle velvet and white and yellow shooting star design. His age-lined face was a mask of seriousness, and his usually sparkling eyes were trained with caution upon Tom as he held his wand slightly elevated towards the young Riddle.

"Are you well enough to come to my office, Miss Granger?" he inquired; all he while his eyes remained upon Tom who was getting to his hands and knees while shaking his head as though trying to remove pain from it.

"Yes, I'm quite well," Hermione responded as she sat gingerly upright and felt McGonagall's hands rush to her arm in assistance.

When the Head Girl had been helped to her feet, she looked towards the Headmaster and saw Ginny behind him. Hermione would have rushed forward and embraced her friend for happiness of finally getting to see her, but something in the Weasley girl's face made Hermione feel extremely apprehensive. Turning slowly, the once mock Princess followed Ginny's petrified stare to where Tom had just staggered to his feet and remained hunched over.

"What a lovely dress," Luna commented suddenly, startling Hermione and McGonagall.

Hermione soon became aware that she and Tom were still in the outfits that they had worn to their weddings. Hands moving to her hair, Hermione felt a tiara sitting askew on her head. She winced as she touched it and felt the broken comb on the small crown push painfully into her scalp. Meanwhile, Riddle turned to her and glanced her from head to foot before looking to Dumbledore. This raised a sharp, small gasp from Ginny, who took a step back in fear.

"If you'll both follow me," Dumbledore commanded lightly with his wand still pointing at the newly returned Riddle. "Tom, please lead the way."

Riddle glanced to Hermione who gave a quick sympathetic look before he turned his attention back to Dumbledore. Head held high, Tom stepped past the Headmaster, and Ginny skirted towards Minerva as her wand shook visibly in her hand. Riddle stepped out onto the landing of the stairs, and Hermione half expected to hear the steps groan and begin yelling protests about a boy being near the girls' dorms, but they did not. Apparently this enchantment had been removed from the castle, but this wasn't of importance to her as Dumbledore followed Riddle. She started after them as she felt highly aware of the stares upon her back.

When they reached the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was surprised to see that she didn't feel a start of joy within her. There was a book of hers on the mantle with pictures of her from Dumbledore's Army, the Burrow, and Hogwarts. A banner hung across the mantle's front with writings on it, mostly people's names and words of sadness, which expressed how much the Gryffindors missed their brilliant Head Girl.

Crookshanks was curled on a cushion as though he were highly disgruntled about something, and upon seeing people pass, he hissed, swiped at them, and darted from the chair to hide somewhere. She was a bit surprised by this cold reception, but didn't have time to really ponder it as they exited the portrait hole.

When they emerged, Hermione saw that the hallways were empty of the usual activity. There were no teachers, students, ghosts, or even clinking, creaking sounds of the castle. The statues and suits of armor were missing from their platforms along the walls. Pictures were empty, although Hermione thought she saw some people running through them from time to time as they descended the stairs.

As the threesome moved along the second floor corridor, Hermione's eyes took a quick glance at the windows. Her heart stopped upon seeing past the reflective panes of glass to the grounds below.

Death Eaters lit the sky and their white, skull-like masks with curse after curse as they stood at the gates and forest line of Hogwarts. They were obviously trying to break past the wards; it was just as McGonagall had said while Hermione had been laying on the floor with her eyes shut. How long had this been going on? How much longer would those wards hold out to the hordes of Death Eaters who were trying to break them down?

She slowed her pace, falling behind Dumbledore and Tom as she surveyed the scene outside. She stepped closer to the windows. There were giants among the Death Eaters; they were bellowing and swinging clubs above their heads while looking ravenously at the castle and Hogsmeade below which seemed to be burning.

Her breath fogged the glass and her hands streaked down their shiny surface as she continued to gaze in a horrified manner at the castle grounds. Aurors, Order members, students, and parents were trying to keep the wards in place. The missing statues and suits of armor were on the grounds too; they were being riled and given direction by Professor Flitwick.

Hermione clasped her hands together in a praying fashion and pressed them to her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut. Chills ran the length of her body and prickled her skin as her eyes watered uncontrollably.

"Miss Granger." Dumbledore's calm, but slightly stern voice broke through her prayers, and she turned from the window with a deep inhalation.

Albus and Tom had paused down the hallway and were now staring at her. She took another steading breath that shuddered her body with its enormous, hurried intake. She wanted to ask if there was even time to be sitting in his office discussing things, but she held her tongue as they continued the few short steps to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's quarters.

"Together we stand," Dumbledore spoke briefly. Hermione thought that he had been about to make some sort of moving speech, but instead, he stood looking at the gargoyle as it gave a sweeping bow and leaped aside. "I think Professor Flitwick could use your assistance out on the lawn, my old friend." A wave of Dumbledore's wand sent the animal into another bow and then galloping in an odd fashion down the corridor to the stairs. "Tom, up the stairs please."

Riddle looked back at Hermione, and she saw displeasure there at being commanded like a common dog. Her insides writhed under that gaze because she felt that he was slightly angered with her as well for not speaking up in his favor. Things were not boding well, or so she thought as her newly wed husband turned and practically stomped up the stone steps.

They entered the office, and Tom proceeded, without invitation, over to a chair and dropped down moodily. This was just like Dumbledore to try and reason things and treat him as though he were an ignorant criminal; then again, he technically was a criminal. However, he was not ignorant and there was no reason to not give him a second chance to prove himself. The thing that bothered Tom the most though was the fact that his newly wed wife was not standing up to the old fool in Riddle's defense.

"Miss Granger, please take a seat beside Tom," Albus directed politely as he rounded his desk and took his own seat.

"Professor... forgive my reluctance to sit and talk this over, but shouldn't we be outside assisting the Order members and the others?" Hermione protested uncertainly.

"All in good time," Dumbledore nodded as he touched his fingertips together. "There are a few things I need to clear up before we go out onto the grounds to stand up for the greater good." Hermione sighed and sat down gingerly, her eyes moving to Tom who crossed his arms and glared at the Headmaster. "First off, it would be wise to ask where you've been."

"In 1797," Hermione supplied instantly. "My diary had been switched with Tom's and when I wrote in it, my emotions and such activated the diary as Ginny had done in her second year."

"I see," the Headmaster nodded, noting how Hermione had called Riddle by his first name. "And you did what while being in this time?"

"How is that really relevant to current circumstances?" Tom snapped as he sat up from his brooding, slouched position. "Granger and I ended up in the past and now we're back by some form of magical reaction, or so that's my guess."

"You never were one for guessing, Tom," Dumbledore challenged lightly. "Would you care to give a more elaborate, correct answer? Or shall I respond to the question of how you got back here?"

The annoying codder was playing the one card that he knew aggravated the young Dark Lord the most and that was insulting and challenging his intelligence.

"The diary was destroyed, and since it was that diary that opened the portal to a previous time period, its magic obviously wore thin and finally closed the portal, but not before pulling us back to the present," Riddle snarled through gritted teeth.

"Partly right, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore informed as he rose from his seat and walked to the shelves that lined his circular office. From next to the Sorting Hat, he took a leather box that was bound by a black ribbon.

Riddle picked up the box slowly after Albus sat it down in front of him on the desk. Tom untied it and pulled the lid from the box, letting both the ribbon and lid fall to the floor. Inside the box was a charred, tattered book. Tom picked it up with care and turned it over, looking for the familiar gold lettering which told him who it belong to. _Tom Marvolo Riddle_. There it was; plain as day and still partly in tact.

"Is that...," Hermione began.

"Yes, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied, "it is." Riddle's gaze snapped to Hermione and watched as her face grew apprehensive towards the journal in his hands. "It appears that Tom was partly right by saying that the diary pulled out back. Why... I cannot be certain. However, it appears that as long as this diary is in tact, our young Mr. Riddle will also remain."

"It's another Horcrux? But wasn't that foolish to recreate one out of something that was already destroyed once?" the Head Girl inquired.

"Extremely, but it's my belief that Voldemort relied solely on the fact that you cherish books so much, Miss Granger," Albus explained. A loud bang issued and made her flinch as the castle shook slightly. A distant scream reached them, and Hermione felt her stomach plummet.

"So as long as this diary remains unharmed, I live? I age just as anyone?"

"Yes, Tom. You will be as human as the next young man. You will age because memories and souls age, which are what Horcruxes are solely made of. You can be mortally wounded, just as souls can be, but you can never truly die, no matter the damage be the object which sustains your soul must be destroyed as well." Another bang and shake of the foundation made Dumbledore sigh. "I think the time for waiting is over. Miss Granger, you'll find Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley on the grounds. Tom... I will give you the chance to join who you wish; my only warning to you is to do what you know is right."

Dumbledore rose and left the newly weds together in his office. Another scream reached their ears just as the door to the office closed.

Tom stood, the diary still in his hands, and his eyes trained on its cover. He had a chance to join the Death Eater ranks and overtake the wizarding world just as he wanted. How could it be that easy?

"Tom?"

It couldn't. He looked up at Hermione; there was fear and uncertainty in her eyes. Signs of dread emanated from her as she rose from her chair and looked from the diary to his face. He loved her. He hated that he could make her look like that at him. Damn this situation. He was torn. His one lifelong work and wish was warring with his passionate love for Hermione. Her fingers reached out and ran along the edge of the diary. They blackened from the char on it, and she sighed.

"I respect Dumbledore and therefore respect his judgment," she whispered as she stepped closer. She pushed herself up onto her tip toes and placed a kiss on his lips. "Love me, comfort me, honor and keep me, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, cherish and continually bestow upon me your heart's deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto me for as long as we both live." She turned and walked away as he bowed his head and thought about those words.

He did love her. He would comfort her, honor and keep her, for better and for worse, in sadness and in joy. He would cherish her and continually bestow upon her his heart's deepest devotion. Could he forsake all others and keep himself only unto her for as long as the both lived if it was himself he had to forsake and keep away from for her though?

He laid the diary into the box and looked around the office as he door clicked shut behind Hermione. What was he supposed to do?

* * *

"Harry! Hermione is back!" Neville bellowed as he came running across the grounds.

The wards were falling. Fights were breaking out and others were still trying to break in or keep the wards up. It wouldn't be long before the Death Eaters were overrunning them and a larger fight ensued.

"Harry!" It was Ron, and he was running at The Boy Who Lived from another direction.

Neville reached Harry only seconds before Ron and both blurted out a message of Hermione's return as they panted.

"What? Where did you hear this?" The Chosen One yelled above the noise of bangs, booms, and screams of curses and pain.

"Parvati came by the group I was with and yelled to us," Neville replied.

"I heard it from Colin Creevey," Ron said.

"Harry! Harry, look!" Neville grabbed his bespectacled friend by the shoulders and spun him around while pointing shakily at the front doors of Hogwarts. Hermione was emerging with Dennis Creevey and some house-elves. Her head was held high, and her wand was aloft in determination. She reached the three boys and smiled tearfully at them, so happy to finally see them gaping at her as she stood in a dress she had worn to her own wedding a little over half a day before.

They had been about to hug her when someone behind Harry yelled alarm that the wards they were guarding had fallen. Harry, Ron, Neville, and the others whipped around just in time to see Death Eaters rushing at them. Curses flew helter-skelter as black robed figures wearing white masks came rushing past the gates of Hogwarts.

Hermione's gut clenched, and she gripped her wand as a curse came flying at her. She dodged it and pushed Dennis down on the ground as one came soaring in their direction. The Head Girl managed to dodge that one as well, although she felt intense heat next to her ear and smelled burning hair.

"A little princess," cackled someone. Hermione spun around to see Bellatrix Lestrange standing to her left. "We've been missing you. Your face has been all over the papers for a over a month... So, where's the young Dark Lord?"

"That's none of your business," Hermione barked and aimed her wand at the eccentric, thin, pale woman before her.

Curses flew between the two and finally Bellatrix fell to a Stunning Spell that Hermione hadn't sent. She glanced around and saw Ron waving to her as he turned off to help Dobby and some other house-elves. She felt odd looking at him; the last time she had seen him, he had been sneaking off to Hogsmeade with Luna Lovegood, and Hermione had cried over it.

"Hermione! Move!" shrieked Hestia Jones as a Killing Curse burst through the air at the Head Girl.

She dropped to the ground just in time to miss it and was forced to roll out of the way as the body of Terry Boot hit the ground, wide-eyed and gaping. Hermione stifled a shriek. The last time she had seen him, he had defended her against Draco Malfoy. Tears blinded her for a moment before she bushed them away with the back of her wrist. She scrambled to her feet and backed into someone. They whipped around, and she found herself in a crushing hug.

The scent of Mrs. Weasley and the Burrow filled Hermione's nostrils for a moment before Molly cast Hermione aside and sent a jinx at a nearby Death Eater. The Head Girl stumbled backwards and tripped over something. She hit the ground and saw the body of Winky the house-elf. A whimper left Hermione's lips, and she scooted away from the body quickly. She looked around and saw students falling and Death Eaters screaming as they dropped. Order members and teachers were battling beside armor and statues as Death Eaters, werewolves, and giants clashed with them. It was chaos; deadly and violent.

* * *

Tom stared down at the broken, fallen, and fighting who scattered Hogwarts lawns, steps, forest, and greenhouses. It was madness, and his older counterpart had brought it on. Riddle felt his gut clench; he was feeling guilt, which he still wasn't accustomed to. Hermione had changed him; there was no doubt that she had. His thoughts turned to the girl he coveted and married. He had been searching for her, but hadn't seen her yet. She shouldn't be too hard to spot in her unique attire.

As he scanned the grounds for her, his eyes landed on something rather startling. Himself. Older and much more evil in means, but himself nonetheless. Despite his fallen followers, Voldemort battled on. He sent curse after curse bounding from the tip of his wand to crumple both the unsuspecting and brave who stood up to him. There was a glint in his red eyes that Tom could see from the second floor corridor windows. That was what awaited him. Could he really rule the wizarding world beside himself if that's what he was?

He didn't have time to contemplate this though as Hermione came into view. She was running towards a redhead who was on the ground. She dropped down beside him and shook him before he sat up slowly. She turned and rose quickly, racing towards Voldemort. What was she doing? He would surely kill her, but wasn't that what Tom was waiting for? Wasn't he waiting for one or the other to fall so that he could take the remaining side and not have to forsake the other? But could he watch her die so easily? Could he watch himself fall? What kind of coward was he to leave his life to fate? He had never done such a thing before.

* * *

Hermione rushed to Harry's side as Death Eaters encircled him and the Dark Lord. Giants pounded the ground with clubs as though rooting Voldemort on, and she stumbled with the force of the shake. Death Eaters battled back those trying to break through to help The Boy Who Lived. She threw a few curses and found a break in the ranks, which she slipped through and came to Harry's side.

"Hermione! Where's Dumbledore?" Harry called as she grabbed his arm.

"I don't know," she answered as she looked around frantically. "There, there! He's over there. He's trying to get here!" Sure enough, Albus Dumbledore was surrounded by Order members and statues as Fawkes the phoenix flew overhead cawing. "He's coming, Harry, he's coming!"

"Well, to what do we owe the displeasure... Hermione Granger, is it?" Voldemort addressed loudly. She turned and looked him in the eye with no expression betraying her feelings or thoughts. "Where is Tom Riddle?"

"You'll have to ask him that because I don't know," she bellowed back as she tightened her hold on her wand and glared at the pale, red-eyed man before her.

"Move!" commanded someone beyond the ranks of the Death Eaters. Hermione would of guessed that it was Professor Dumbledore, but the fact that the followers of Voldemort dispersed and let the person through was against that guess.

Tom came striding up, and Hermione was about to turn to face him, but he continued on past her. She felt her heart shatter when he stepped up to Voldemort; her mouth went dry, and her tongue felt swollen. Riddle turned and looked to her in a stern, unemotional way. She felt deceived and deeply hurt and wanted nothing more than to turn and walk away from the dozens who gazed at them. She bowed her head and felt an aching in her ears and throat as her vision blurred.

"The Mudblood is crying!" Alecto Carrow cried with glee as she pointed and laughed at Hermione.

The Head Girl looked up at her newly wed husband as a tear trailed down her cheek only to see that his expression still had not changed.

"How about that Potter?" bellowed Amycus Carrow, Alecto's brother. "Your Mudblood friend loves the young Dark Lord!"

Hermione looked up at Harry; his eyes met hers, but she couldn't hold his gaze. She looked away, ashamed that she had been so stupid as to fall in love with her best friend's enemy. However, she hadn't imagined that she would feel this way. She had once envisioned herself telling Harry that she and Tom were in love and that she would feel happiness despite any rejection they might encounter. Those visions were shattered now though.

"Love is not to be trusted... ever," Voldemort cooed in a sickening tone; there was malice, disgust, and sinister laughter in his voice. "It can only lead to betrayal and downfall."

Riddle looked to his older self and thought for a moment. He had once thought the same about love, but Hermione had shown him differently. She had given him love with trust, generosity, and she had vowed all this to him in front of at least a hundred or more people. Even if it wasn't anyone they had known truly and even if it wasn't under their own names, she had made it clear that she had meant every word.

"Enough of this," Voldemort called and raised his hands high. "Surrender yourself, Harry Potter, and I shall spare your friends... at least the purebloods."

"I would never," Harry growled, but his words barely reached Hermione's ears.

Her eyes were locked on Tom, and his were upon her. Her tears were slowly drying as they left cool, taut trails down her cheeks. She bowed her head, unable to look at him any longer. Harry and Voldemort were still exchanging threats and commands; Harry trying to show Voldemort he had lost by telling the older version of Tom Riddle that all his Horcruxes had been destroyed.

"It matters not, Potter!" Voldemort roared back with a sort of hissing accent. "I have a predecessor for when my time comes; I know he will carry out my wishing exactly as I would want because he _is_ me!"

"Wrong, Tom," Dumbledore spoke up as he finally managed to reach Harry's side with Ron and Neville. "Young Mr. Riddle has a choice before him. He does not have to be defined by your choices, and he does not have to follow the path that you have laid for him. He lives just as any would, and he has the chance to live his life as he would want."

Hermione glanced to Riddle and watched as he looked down at his feet in thought. She looked him up and down before her eyes stopped on his hands. She almost let a small gasp of joy escape her lips when she saw what rested on the ring finger of his left hand. A solid gold wedding band was secured snuggly there; it shimmered when he flexed his hand, tightening his fist. As she stared at that hand, she failed to notice that the other had raised and pointed the wand in its grasp at Harry.

"I told you that I couldn't have chosen a better predecessor!" Voldemort chortled coldly as Hermione's lip quivered; she couldn't believe Tom would give his loyalty to the evil, older rendition of himself when he had vowed it to her in a church. Obviously he hadn't meant it as he had said; he had tricked her, and she couldn't feel more foolish.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The word spilled from the mouth of someone and all Hermione could do was grab Harry and pull him to the ground. A collective cry of surprise and distress sounded from the area, but Hermione still did not look up. Dumbledore's voice rang out over everyone, but it was muffled to her as her head was covered by Harry's arm. Heat soared around them and almost overwhelmed her.

"Hermione!" Harry cried, "Get up! Hurry!" He pulled her to her feet before readying himself for a fight. She grasped her own wand and saw that Voldemort was dueling Tom. She, Harry, Dumbledore, Ron, and Neville were being protected by a shield of fire, which Albus had obviously conjured. The flames were dying however, and Death Eaters were drawing closer as they did. "Ready yourself," Harry commanded above the commotion.

Soon the flames receded into the ground, and duels broke out on all sides of Hermione. Order members rushed to their aid; Harry was battling his way to Voldemort. She turned and began following him, trying to make her way to Tom to see what had happened.

She paused long enough to assist Fred Weasley against Fenrir before turning and finding herself in a duel with Yaxley and Thorfinn Rowle. Hermione found herself struggling to keep up with the curse after jinx onslaught that the two Death Eaters brought upon her. She backed up and soon regretted it because she found someone's elbow connecting with the side of her head as they fell. She staggered and wrestled with balance to stay upright, but lost as she tripped over the fallen person who had accidentally hit her.

She looked up as Yaxley laughed out loud and Thorfinn drew nearer. Rowle raised his wand and grin manically, ready to curse her into oblivion. Hermione scrambled backwards, trying to lose herself in the mass of fighters that was happening around her. Thorfinn looked back to Yaxley and laughed brassly at the Hogwarts Head Girl. She took that moment to scamper to her hands and knees.

Hermione raised her wand and sent a curse flying at Thorfinn, but it missed and soared off through the night and out of sight. He sneered and raised his wand; aiming it at Hermione who began trying her best to get fully to her feet. She wasn't fast enough however.

"Crucio!" Rowle roared.

Hermione screamed out. Her veins seared, and she was sure that her blood was boiling inside them. Her muscles stretched to their limit, and they would certainly snap soon. Hermione's eyes watered, and her ears pounded painfully as her backbone ripped with anguish. She didn't think that it would ever end, but her head began to feel light while her vision blurred. Surely she would pass out in the seconds to come.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Thorfinn relented on his attack on Hermione as a green halo lit around his body. His face froze in shock, and he dropped forward with a tremendous thud. Behind him stood Tom, who turned to Yaxley and aimed his wand. Seconds later, arrows rained from the tip and bombarded Yaxley. He coughed, blood spilling from his mouth as he gripped the many arrows protruding from his chest. He fell forward, shoving the shafts deeper and through his back.

Riddle turned away from his fallen opponent and dodged his way through people, both fallen and fighting, as well as curses until he came to Hermione's side. He knelt and lifted her head upwards.

"Hermione?" he whispered in her ear. "Come on... wake up." Her head lulled, but she finally looked at him. Her body was in a dull ache now, but she sat up with his assistance. She looked at him in bewilderment, and he rubbed his thumb on her cheek. "I vowed to forsake all others and keep myself only unto you."

She would have relished to pause the moment, but they were in the middle of a battle on Hogwarts grounds. Tom pulled her to her feet before scanning the grounds for Harry and Voldemort.

"We need to help him!" she screamed.

Tom nodded and pulled her through the mass of duelers, each dodging and ducking while Tom shielded them from harm. They finally made it to the area where the Dark Lord and The Boy Who Lived were exchanging curses.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled.

Heads turned to her and in that moment, Tom raised his wand, aimed it at Voldemort, and said the only words that came to mind.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort gasped, and time seemed to stop. Hermione watched as though in slow motion as the Dark Lord descended to his knees, his face forever formed in a look of disbelief. He began to raise his arm at Harry to curse him, but only got it halfway up before slouching forward and dying there upon the ground.

* * *

Tom wandered through the stacks of the library in London. He smelled her perfume; it was a familiar scent, calming and exciting all at the same time. He peeked around the corner of a shelf and found her sitting at a table, pouring over a book. He walked up and leaned over her shoulder.

"What are you reading now?" he joked, whispering into her ear and gripping his shoulder lovingly.

She turned and looked up at him.

"I have been wondering since we came back whatever happened to the King and everyone from back then," she replied as she turned the book so he could see. He took a seat, and she pointed at a particular paragraph. "The King ended up remarrying and having another child four years after Anastasia's disappearance. Her husband was found dead with Porthos. It was thought that they battled over Princess Ana, who was told by Aramis to leave. No one knows what happened to her."

"So I became a hero," Riddle gloated in a low tone.

"Twice, yes." She leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. "C'mon... Mum and Dad are expecting us for dinner."

She rose, closed the book, and grabbed his hand. He stood and followed her from the building and into the bright sunlight of the summer afternoon. They started down the street, hands clasped, and a new, undefined, but brilliant future ahead. He was so glad he had vowed his loyalty to her, and she returned his devotion and love; he wouldn't have things any other way.


End file.
